Down the Rabbit Hole
by Shiinmaru-dono
Summary: It's been four years since MI6 dragged Alex into their world and nearing 18, the spy is almost upon adulthood-and the option to leave spying behind forever. But things never go according to plan and Alex Rider is in for an trip. YxA Warnings inside.
1. AN and Prologue

**Down the Rabbit Hole**

_By Shiinmaru-dono and Sho-dono_

**Author's Note From Shiinmaru-dono:**

A few warnings before you ignore this and scroll down to the Prologue below: There is some seriously squicky concepts floating around this massive bit of fanfiction. By squicky I mean: rape, torture, attempted-suicide, self-harm, mpreg (and you're just going to love how we explain that one), slash (but you knew that), bondage, a little S&M, and some general violence/gore/blood. So please, don't misunderstand me when I say that I ignore all flames (my skin has gotten a wee more thick since my first fanfiction) and if your flame tickles my grammar-nazi instincts by containing poor spelling, poor punctuation, and/or even poorer grammar I'm probably going to find your email and send your bashing-review back to you once I've corrected it. If you don't like any of the things I've mentioned above, leave now and keep your mouth shut; if you don't like something after you've been warned you have no right to bash me about it.

There is a massive amount of OOC: You'll not recognize Alex and Yassen by the time we're done with this – well, you'll recognize them at the end just not in the middle. Personally, I've only read the first three to four books of the series but my co-authoress as read all of them; so there should be few mistakes. That said, this pretty much goes 'round the bend into AU after the whole Air Force One fiasco (as noted in the fact that Yassen is still breathing). I conned my co-authoress into going even further into AU than most – you'll probably find it funny when you note just exactly what we've done.

So now that you know that this is very much NON-canon, please keep this in mind: The first person who flames me about canon is going to suddenly find themselves in the middle of the Everglades butt-naked and far, far away from any form of help. Also note that we have no beta and are desperately seeking one that can put up with two VERY abrasive personalities that make mules look positively compliant. The person who reviews the most about grammar/spelling/punctuation is going to be hunted down and made to beta the novella you're about to read. That last threat isn't idle.

One more thing to you all need to be aware of before I release you from detention: This was written because Sho-dono needed some way to talk me down from suicide. No, I'm not telling you the details of that; all you need to know is that it was really bad and the first fifteen or so pages were born from that night. I tell you this so you understand exactly why there is such a colossal amount of self-harm, self-hatred, depression, angst, and generally depressing themes throughout the text. If that bothers you, then, like I said above: Stop reading. It's not going to hurt me if you don't like my fanfiction just don't stick around and snark about it.

Well, I'm done with my longest author's note ever. I now release all of you darling readers from detention. Enjoy the fic with my blessing. May whatever god/deity/spirit you believe in bless all of you.

Hold on one more second, my darling readers. This is the co-authoress that was mentioned above, and yes every single thing she said above was true. SO if you find this fiction (for that is what it is, children, fiction.) to rub irritably against your closed minds then too bad so sad. The two of us have authored more stories than many of you, only two of which have ever truly been graced the light of day (or semi-twilight considering our sleep habits) so trust me when I say this. You are naught but peons to us. Fodder. Nothing more. Your words of scorn and ridicule, for there are those amongst you who will ignore our ample warning and we all know that, will make us laugh at your stupidity. Yet those who give us compliments OR, better yet, constructive criticism on how our writings may be improved will find themselves smiled upon by the pair of us. We hope that you have enjoyed our deranged rambling and if you have ignored this and sent a badly put together flame then I place damnation upon your fool of a head; damnation upon your blood and bone. Enjoy.

**Prologue**

Alex gazed tiredly out the heavily tinted car window at the depressing sight of overly tall office buildings and banks. It was almost his eighteenth birthday and MI6 was calling upon him, for the first time in almost two years actually. That they were calling upon him after so long a time of silence was disturbing. The fact that he was only a month away from his eighteenth birthday and was being summoned by Mr. Blunt was cause for alarm. At eighteen he would be an adult and free from MI6 – well, free to turn them down and demand payment, at least. Regardless, Alex felt a sense of danger; the faintest scent on the wind of a storm about to break upon the horizon. Normally, the young spy would simply take the sliver of malaise and laugh but never before had he felt such a thing just approaching the British intelligence's headquarters.

It was almost as if his body knew something his mind hadn't quite focused on yet. His stomach roiled, and his chest ached. His palms were sweaty and his muscles twitched at every small sound. As the car began to slow Alex felt his heart beat faster, harder, and for a second he feared it my pulse itself straight out of his chest. _What is wrong with me? _he thought even as he exited the bland gray car and stepped towards the overly familiar glass doors of the Royal & General Bank.

A sudden, strange, absurd thought struck him as he entered the building, _I wish I had Yassen at my back right now._

"He's expecting you," was all the lady at the desk outside of Mr. Blunt's office said

The blonde nodded before walking in, never noticing the mournful glance the secretary sent at his back.

He knew that the thought was absurd, he had watched Yassen die on Air Force One, blood pooling from the bullet wound in his chest. But that didn't stop that odd urge. Over the years the young spy had been partnered up with a number of other agents, some took him seriously, most didn't. But something he found they all seemed to have in common was that at the end of the day they always let him down. Yassen never had. Yassen, regardless of affiliation, motive, or method always managed to save his ungrateful hide in the end. The chair at Mr. Blunt's desk was facing away from the door and Mrs. Jones was nowhere in sight.

"What's the mission?" Alex demanded.

The chair turned around to reveal gray Mr. Blunt holding a gun. There was nothing in his eyes. No pity, no sadness, not even anger. To him this was nothing more than business as usual. One of the agents had outgrown their usefulness and now it was time for them to be...'retired'. "I am very sorry about this, Alex." His finger squeezed the trigger.

Shock, his body wouldn't, couldn't move. Pain, excruciating pain blossomed in his chest for the second time in his life. _But there's no Yassen to save me and no Jack to worry about me. Both are dead and, I guess, so am I now..._ Alex slumped to the ground, dead or unconscious unknown.

Mr. Blunt pressed the buzzer on his intercom. "Please send in the cleaners," was his casual remark before settling down into his chair to finish the piles of paperwork.


	2. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

Thank you those who reviewed with such sweet remarks. It is always a pleasure to receive praise from the audience. Cookies to all who hit that little button at the bottom of the page. I will apologize now for the inherent shortness of the chapter. I will also beg you to be patient with the explanation as to why I have made Alex an unbelievable wimp – there is a reason you just haven't been told it yet. So, please, no flaming that until after you've been given the explanation in later chapters: If you find the reasoning faulty or simply not decent enough I will happily accept flames and CONTRUCTIVE criticism. I do love you all so very much.

**Special thanks to:**

**Swedenbabe** – I'm glad you actually read the warnings; most people don't. My co-authoress and I will try our hardest not to disappoint.

**rabidah23** – We won't make you wait too long; probably only a week and thanks for reading the AN.

**vice17** – You're going to have one of two reactions when we explain the mpreg: You will shame my co-authoress and I for going down that particularly strange path or you will think it a revolutionary concept and continue reading. I'm crossing my fingers and hoping it's the latter reaction. Regardless, I have your undivided attention for the next…*scrolls through master document* five and half chapters. But who knows, you may just keep reading even if you don't like the method. *wiggles eyebrows while grinning*

**writertron** – How sweet? Glad you want more.

**Anon** – I'm still in shock that a lurker came out to review the prologue. Thanks for the positive feedback and I've already fixed it by the time this is posted.

One more thing before I let you go: I had my impacted wisdom teeth pulled out recently and feel like absolute shit – the drugs don't help much in regards to lucidity. I'll try from now on to have a new chapter posted every Saturday. But, keep in mind that both Sho-dono and I are full-time college students and most of our time is dedicated to study. Things happen and updates may become sporadic the closer we are to midterms/finals/major projects.

Okay, co-authoress Sho here, any and all of Yassen's past is made up other than what was discussed in the books. So if something is different than what you think then oh damn well.

**Chapter 1**

Alex woke up. That in itself was almost enough to give him a heart attack, then the pain hit causing his body to arch in pain, a scream like a wounded animal blossoming from his lips. He couldn't feel the sure hands of the doctors trying to still his thrashing limbs, nor the slight pinprick of the needle. All he felt was a cool, painless darkness close around his senses.

He woke again and, foolishly tried to move only to have strong hand hold him down.

"Calm yourself, Rider. You'll manage to kill yourself if you don't calm," ordered a familiar voice. A voice the blonde hadn't heard since Air Force One all those years ago.

"I saw you die."

A soft hum of assent made Alex's chest hurt in a way he hadn't felt since Jack's accident. He refused to open his eyes. He didn't want this to be a dream brought on by the last dying synapses of his brain. If he opened them and saw nothing... he hadn't a clue what he would do. It would be like watching him die all over again.

"You saw what I needed people to see. Open your eyes, Alex," came the dead man's soft command.

"Yassen," the young spy could barely whimper out the name, "I-I..."

"Shhhhhh, calm yourself. I'm very much alive."

Alex began to shake and opened his blue eyes. At first all he could see was darkness, and for one panicked second he fear he was blind, until his eyes adjusted slightly so that he could make out a dim outline that sharpened when he focused. The pale hair and dancer-esque body told him all he needed to know. It was only confirmed when he saw the lone scar stretching across the side of the man's neck. Yassen was alive, and so was he.

"Yassen," Alex whimpered again, raising his hand to reach for the assassin he had missed. "Everyone's dead but you and me. Jack died in a car accident," the teen gave a watery snort before continuing, "Sabina was shot because she was seen with me. I thought you died; thought I was alone; thought–" A sob forced its way out; a dam built of years of stress, fear, worry, sorrow, and grief burst. Tears streamed down his cheeks as the Alex cried for the first time since Ian's death.

"Oh, _Sashka_," the assassin whispered, gently sliding his weight onto the bed before carefully gathering the wounded teen into his arms.

Uncontrolled sobs wracked his body, for a brief second Alex feared for whatever was being used to keep his body sewn together before it was flooded out by another wave of tears. He was startled into near silence when Yassen gently slid an arm behind his back and lifted him into a slight sitting position before laying his head atop the teens'. "What...?" Alex croaked.

"Your father did this for me once." The Russian said by way of explanation, "Though at the time I was sick, not crying." he continued voice tinged with slight amusement.

"Some things never change," Alex croaked out. "M'sorry for blubbering all over you." The teen rubbed his eyes before settling more comfortably in the older man's gentle hold. "Where were you? Missed you so much..." Alex's eyes closed before he could hear Yassen answer.

"I was watching you, _Sashka_," he whispered to the slumbering young man he held, "I was watching over you, _Ангел мой_."

After a few minutes Yassen laid Alex back down and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. The Russian straightened and moved to the doorway before glancing back at the quiet room housing the bed upon which the young Rider rested and a few medical machines to monitor his status. Once satisfied that nothing was amiss the pale haired man made his way down the thick carpeted hallway to his office, intent on seeking revenge upon MI6 and the _govniuk_ that had shot Alex.


	3. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:**

*Smiles sheepishly* I wasn't talking about that particular chapter when I apologized for Alex being irritatingly wimpy/whiny. By the time this is posted there are about twenty-one chapters and we're nowhere near done and even I, the main writer of wimpy Alex, am irritated with the pathetic angst. I'm apologizing for ALL FUTURE times you want to shake the boy and tell him to "man up already." That said, I do love all of you my dearest readers. Your sweet reviews have kept me from murdering my Calculus I teacher for being incompetent – quite the feat if you ask Sho-dono. I'm notoriously poor at impulse-control. *Gives all you a very creepy serial killer grin* Anyway, have fun and, if you're new/not reviewing, keep this in mind: The body's of flamers will never be found if I have my way.

Sorry this is late!

**Chapter 2 **

Light glared through the blinds, waking the blonde from his restful sleep. Glancing about the room he noticed only blank walls painted a, supposedly soothing, pale green with a large terraced window on the left letting in the horrid sun. _Was it all a dream?_ Alex thought absently; his assassin wasn't in the room and the morphine was numbing the bullet-wound's pain. Carelessly, the last Rider tried to sit up only for his chest to scream in agony as protest to movement. _That most certainly wasn't a dream...But how did Yassen know in the first place?_ he wondered worriedly.

A soft noise at the foot of his bed drew the ex-spy's gaze downward to meet the gaping maw of a white arctic wolf. With a shout Alex tried to bring up his leg to kick the gigantic beast but it dodged easily. It cocked its' head curiously and padded its way up the side of the bed until it could stretch out its head and sniff at Alex's fingers. It was only then the panicking Brit noticed the thick leather collar around the white neck with the name _Kia_ carved into it. This huge... thing... was someone's pet!

"Don't kick at her, Alex. She does bite if provoked and you will tear your stitches if you're not careful," admonished the Russian in the doorway.

"Good morning, Yassen. It is morning, right?" Alex suddenly noticed a waft of delicious food, "I smell eggs and bacon."

The assassin smirked, "It is morning and you smell eggs and bacon because I've brought you breakfast." Turning to look at the wolf as he walked towards the bed, "Kia, don't beg."

An almost pitiful whine drew Alex's gaze back to the canine as it sat down and laid its head atop the covers and stared longingly at the tray Yassen set on the teens lap. "I can't help but think that it's normally spoiled with table scraps," he muttered as he lifted a forkful of eggs to his mouth, the utensils path tracked faithfully by soft brown eyes. Yassen snorted.

"Spoiled indeed! More a thief than anything. And 'it' is a she." He corrected calmly as Alex continued to devour his food.

"How did you manage to get a bloody wolf for a pet?" Alex queried between mouthfuls.

"Trust me when I say you don't want to know."

A remembered question flit across the blonde's mind. "Yassen," he started as he carefully set his utensils down, "how did you know where I was or that I was shot? And, where are we exactly?" The assassin could see the guarded fear of betrayal in the youth's eyes and chose his next words cautiously.

"It is well known in certain circles that when an agent of MI6 has reached the end of their... usefulness... to them that agent is, in their words, 'retired'. Sometimes it involves a cessation of missions and a normal pension. Other times..." he paused as if trying to decide whether or not to continue.

"They're killed," Alex finished.

"Yes," the Russian nodded sadly, "I knew that when you turned eighteen they would no longer be able to hold power over you and your advantage wore off as you aged. It was only a matter of time." Alex sighed heavily, hearing this now it made perfect sense. His missions had decreased because he stopped looking like an innocent kid and started looking more and more like his Uncle and father. Why hadn't he realized this before? "As for where you are, you are in one of many houses I own around the globe. Currently we are in Romania. Once you are well you may go where you wish." Alex nodded in understanding and turned back to his plate to finish eating... only to find it spotlessly clean.

"You weren't kidding about her being a thief," Alex commented, awe tinting his voice. Yassen only snickered. "What am I to do now?"

The assassin sighed and walked to the window. "Whatever you want, Alex. The world believes you dead; you're free to do as you please once you heal."

Alex's laugh was borderline hysterical, "And what do you propose I do? I'm seventeen with no family, no friends, no college degree, and no money. I'm dead now, Yassen, and I've only ever been trained to be a spy. The moment I go that route is the moment the world knows I'm alive and a target is once again painted on my back."

Yassen frowned before turning back to Alex, "That does not mean that you cannot start over in a different country. You have met enough people in the Underground over the years to know exactly how easy it is." The Russian moved close to Alex's bedside and crossed his arms, "Do you think your father or uncle had degrees? Your father served in the military before joining MI6; your uncle was recruited shortly after he turned twenty. How many spies do you honestly think have ever been to college?"

"Then am I supposed to be a spy? Or would rather I be an assassin?" The teen wouldn't look up.

"Alex..." Yassen growled as he lifted the young man's chin up only to see...nothing. There was no expression, no emotion; Alex...had dead eyes.

The pale haired man's jaw tightened before he sat down on the edge of the bed, "That was not what I was saying. What I was trying to tell you is that think of the things you know. Not how to fire a gun or rig a bomb or any of the skills you learned to cause harm. Think of what you know of computers, survival in a harsh landscape, acting. Alex, now that you are for all but few dead the skills and knowledge you have accumulated will allow you to do nearly anything you pursue."

Alex didn't respond. Kia whimpered. "You don't understand. I thought you would understand," was the last Alex whispered before he withdrew into himself.

Yassen's frown deepened, "No, Alex. It is you who do not understand." He stood calmly and picked up the breakfast tray before making his way out of the room. In the doorway he paused, "Kia," the dogs head lifted curiously, "Stay, make sure he doesn't do anything foolish," he ordered before leaving the room entirely.

"You'll try to stop me won't you," the depressed teen stated softly. The wolf barked as if to confirm. "You won't stop me. You adore your master but you don't want to share him. You won't stop me." Alex Rider carefully disconnected himself from the machines and dragged his wounded body to the bathroom where he locked the door. After rummaging in the cabinet he found a razor. Normally he preferred colder water but that would only slow his death. Lowering himself into the filled tub, he sliced down the vein of both wrists. One last whisper left his lips before he slipped into unconsciousness, "You don't understand, Yassen. I can't be anything but a spy or assassin. I'd lose you again if I became no one."


	4. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:**

Nothing much to talk about this time, though Sho-dono may have something so…

**vice17 – **Just trust me on this but thanks for the compliment on Kia. You're not going to believe what were going to do with her. *evil grin* (Sho-dono: don't you dare take credit for her, she was my idea! Shiinmaru-dono: I'm not!)

**Soul of an Elemental Alchemist –** Yeah, that wasn't a very intense form of suicide. I can think of a dozen or so other methods to use that are more "intense" that was simply the most efficient method I could think of without access to pills. Besides, doesn't everyone know the phrase "horizontal for hospital; downward for death"?

Not all that much to talk about either except that I am beginning to truly hate the place I am currently living. Despite having access to huge amounts of books and the like it's boring and the bathrooms are community style so you can just imagine the kind of s*** that goes on in there. Well I'm done with my rant and now on with the fic! (We do not own Alex Rider or any other recognizable characters in the story, they belong to A. Horowitz.)

**Chapter 3**

Alex opened his eyes carefully; this was the second time in as many weeks that he felt surprised at being alive. That was probably the first sign that he needed help but he just couldn't find the energy to care. A shuffling sound to his right drew his eyes to see Kia sitting there, only now she had a muzzle and leash tied to the headboard of Alex's bed.

Alex shifted and nearly screamed when he felt his shoulder brush across the sheets.

"She clawed through the door and dragged you of the tub by your shoulder before she began barking. That was beyond stupid, kid," Yassen's voice was cold and it took everything in the ex-spy not to cry. _I screwed up...he'll want me to leave...I'm alone again..._

Yassen lifted one of Alex's hands showing him the bandaged around his wrist before sitting down on the edge of the bed once more. "Normally, when a teenager tries to commit suicide they are thrown into therapy. But I don't think that will work with you." He gave Alex an even look, "I've impressed upon Kia that you are, for all intents and purposes, one of her own. She'll stay with you and keep you from doing anything stupid again." He glared at the wolf who lowered her head submissively.

The teen didn't respond.

A long suffering sigh escape Yassen, "Why are you doing this, Rider? You're free from MI6 and dead to the world; you can do anything you want with your life and you just want to die. Explain this to me, now."

"You don't understand," he rasped, another three days of unconsciousness weighed on his voice. "Freedom has come with a price that I never wanted to pay." He closed his eyes, "You don't understand, Yassen."

Yassen sighed heavily, "I watched my parents be murdered when I was fourteen," Alex froze eyes widening, "We had lived in a small town in the northern plains of Russia, isolated for the most part. It took me a year to find my way to Moscow where a SCORPIA recruiter found me. I started training at Malogosto three weeks later. I have known nothing else since. I did not have a grounding force to keep me in touch with others. I have only been free of SCORPIA for four years, and the price I had to pay for even that..." Yassen paused and sighed, "You think I don't understand?"

"It's not the same price, Yassen. The pain is similar but the price is different."

"How is it different Alex?"

Alex clenched his eyes shut tightly, "Please don't ask me that." Tears streamed down his flushed cheeks.

Yassen gazed at Alex silently, "If you cannot speak as to how they are different then you can't say that they are different can you?" His voice was perfectly reasonable, almost clinical.

Alex bit his lip to muffle a sob before he simply broke down. The assassin stood up and walked towards the door. "It doesn't matter anymore...I've already lost the last thing I had left..."

Yassen paused and tilted his head slightly, "You may think that, but you would be wrong." He left once more. There was a pause before Kia hauled herself up onto the bed and proceeded to lick at Alex's hands and face kindly.

"He still doesn't understand," he sobbed. "But you get it, don't you, Kia? Because you would be in the same place as me." Alex buried his face the wolf's soft fur and continued to mourn.

Kia whined and lay down across Alex's thighs. Alex continued to sob even as his breath started coming in sharp gasps as his shoulder and chest began to ache once again. The ache became agony as his wrists joined the chorus of pain. The choking gasps and cries became more difficult. A particularly hard sob tore the stitches in his chest and a red stain bloomed across his shirt. The next gasp caught in his throat as the air left his lungs. Pain was everywhere and a cacophony of shrill beeps and sirens blared in his ears as lost consciousness a third time. _I'm sorry..._

Later that night Yassen sighed as he watched over the ex-spy. Kia was stretched out next to the boy on the bed, apparently having decided that he was one of her own more so than what Yassen had previously impressed on her. Even though Alex had torn his stitches, forcing Yassen to sew him back up, the assassin was having a hard time getting angry with him.

Even in sleep, Alex's face was contorted in sorrow. He was only seventeen and everything he'd ever known was gone. The assassin tiredly scrubbed a hand over his face; Alex was right, he didn't understand. Was the kid's job so important that he'd kill himself over the loss of it? No, that didn't make sense; the last Rider had always hated working for MI6. Then what was it? It was tied up in spying, that much he could understand. But what was this price that Alex hadn't ever wanted to pay; what was so horrible he'd rather be bound to MI6 than be forced to bear it? And the look of utter defeat and agony in the teen's eyes when he'd compelled his voice to be cold in order not to snap at the young man was heartbreaking. What was going on?

There were times that Yassen truly did not understand others, not that he had tried to in the past, it only made the job more difficult, but now he wished he had.

"Mmmmnnnn, no, please don't – I swear–!" mumbled the young man in front of him, clearly in the grips of some nightmare. "Please! Please don't – don't want to be alone again. Please! I'll do – anything, anything – just don't! Leave me again." Sobs racked his frail frame again; the bullet wound, attempted suicide, and the torn stitches only compounded upon each other. Between the cries and pleas rattling coughs and gasping wore down the already tired body; a delirious fever further fueled the terrors clawing at Alex Rider's tumultuous mind.

Slowly Yassen leaned forward and gripped the sides of the teens head in an attempt to still his thrashing, "ALEX!" he shouted as the boy continued to flail, "Calm down, little Alex. Shhhh," Yassen tried to dredge up faint memories of his own time when ill, being cared for by John Rider, Alex's father. They were faint and very fuzzy but the gist was clear.

"Please! Pleasepleasepleaseplease! Please don't leave me. I'm sorry; . I'm sorry; please don't go. I won't do it again so please don't go. NO! Nonononononononono, NO! YASSEN!" Alex screamed, arching painfully and tearing his stitches again.

With a muttered curse Yassen woke Kia and made her lay atop Alex to keep him still while the Russian pressed his hand against the injury, trying to stem the blood flow, "For the love of God, boy, stay still!" He finally shouted and for some reason Alex began to calm enough that Yassen was able to fashion a quick tourniquet to stem the blood flow long enough to grab his suture kit and to turn up the morphine drip to cast Alex into a deeper sleep.

"M'sowwy, Yassen. I keep skewwing up," Alex slurred still deep in the nightmare but falling into a deeper, dreamless slumber. The assassin sighed tiredly as he slumped back in the chair. Things were just getting more confusing with each passing second.

The next morning Yassen awoke when someone touched to his knee. His response was automatic; he grabbed the hand and twisted it sharply. Alex's sharp cry of surprise broke through his brief second of instinct and he immediately let go of the wrist.

The damage was done though: Alex was curled in on himself, whimpering and mumbling deliriously; his fever igniting deeper self-hatred within the young man. The wrist was bleeding again and was twisted in nauseating way, clearly broken from Yassen's actions and coddled close to the blonde's chest. His eyes were glazed, telling of the deep sickness that could be heard wheezing from Alex's lips. Pneumonia had set in if the assassin had to guess.

Yassen mentally kicked himself and reached out to Alex, intent on fixing his wrist but Alex shied away from him, as if fearing the Russian would lash out again. Yassen cursed, he recognized these symptoms; Alex would be absolutely inconsolable until he recovered. With determinedly slow movements he stood and picked up the phone to call the doctor, again.


	5. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:**

Meh. This week wasn't all that much and I've not much to say. Sho-dono probably has something to add but whatever. Anyway, I keep re-reading the Master Copy of Doom and keep making corrections – so, just somebody please offer to be our Beta. We're getting pretty desperate. Love all you readers! Keep those reviews coming!

If we haven't mentioned this before here it goes: we do not own any character, plot, or whatever that is a part of the Alex Rider universe, we are making no money off of this; we are only borrowing these poor saps in order to flesh out a nagging plotbunny. ON WITH THE FIC!

Oh, one more thing…I'm sorry this is late! Sho-dono took FOREVER to write her AN. I hope to have the next chapter up Saturday.

**Chapter 4**

"Yassen, you are a complete idiot," the deadpanned statement can from Dr. Li Peng. "I had thought you above terrifying young children. Apparently I was a fool to believe such." The disappointment in the Chinese man's eyes was actually shaming to the ruthless assassin; he did so hate how the elder Asian could make him feel like an ill-behaved brat with only a look and a few words.

He kept his face pointedly blank as he explained what had happened, "I did not intend to harm him, he has been ill for a couple of days now and when I fell asleep beside his bed he reached out and my unconscious mind interpreted it as an attack. Nothing more." Dr. Peng looked dubious at first but after a moment shrugged and went back to check on Alex.

"He tried to kill himself." It wasn't a question. "Why?" the old man asked, gently petting Alex's blonde locks.

Yassen hesitated, "I don't know." He looked into the feverish gaze directed at him. "It has something to do with being believed dead by the world and being unable to spy but I don't understand why that would cause such a reaction."

Dr. Peng looked ancient for a moment; ancient and sorrowful. "Mmmm, perhaps we'll come to understand soon enough, child." Another thing that irritated the Russian: Dr. Peng referred to everyone as a child no matter their age.

Slowly Alex's eyes started to slip closed and his face relaxed as the drug that the elder had injected into his IV began to take effect. "That should help him sleep through illness, but when he wakes you're going to need to take better care of him, child." Yassen nodded even as he was lead out of the room by the doctor. "It is not often that I see such a severe form of trauma in children. You were the only other I've seen before him that was in such a state when you were found. I think I shall spend some time here to see if I can offer the boy some...unbiased support."

The assassin was careful to keep his face from grimacing at the idea of surrogate grandfather staying in the same house. "Do you mean physically or psychologically?"

The elder turned and directed a point glare, "Psychologically. You were as terrified as he is when I dragged your ungrateful rump to my home after SCORPIA recruited you; you were angry and frightened and you knew how to lash out – he's too afraid to do that much. Whatever MI6 – close your mouth, boy, I can see quite well that he's the recently declared dead Alex Rider – has done to him since you faked your death can be nothing short of torture. Or did you not notice the cigarette burns, whip scars, and assorted, well placed broken bones?" The stiffening was enough to confirm for the doctor that Yassen hadn't thought MI6 was capable of sending a child to wolves.

"Did–" The Chinese man raised his hand before Yassen could ask.

"Yes, there is evidence of that in scarring; perhaps fully-healed for only a few months prior to his forced 'retirement'." The assassin seemed to slump in on himself as he stumbled over to a nearby chair.

"How could I not have known?" was the broken whisper.

Peng settled himself in the chair opposite Yassen and leaned forward calmly, "Though the government is often thought to be those who hold morals above all else it is more often than not those who are seen as having none that support what is right more often than wrong. They are wolves in sheep's clothing haunting this world. There was no way you could have known." The old man stood and made his way into the kitchen, "How does some tea sound?"

"Tea sounds good about now." _The world is a horrible place filled with naught but monsters and my angel, my _Sashka_ is trapped in the middle of it_, the blonde thought morosely as he followed after the small, deceptively strong Asian.


	6. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:**

Well, here we are again; another Saturday, another chapter. I think I need to get more sleep if this is starting to become a bit of a chore…Anyway, you get a new chapter but no new chapters have been written; funny, no? Some kick Sho-dono into getting online or this story will have no ending…

I take offense to that. I have a very busy life right now and I will have you know that I am almost always online but you never are.

**Chapter 5**

Alex awoke to a world that smelled of peanuts and ginger. For a moment he thought he was going insane until he turned his head and saw a plate of Chinese noodles in peanut sauce with a cup of ginger tea on the bedside table. Alex scrunched his eyes and groaned as he felt the stiff pain in every joint and general weakness in his limbs; the tell-tale sign of prolonged inactivity. Hearing a rustle of cloth near, he timidly asked, "How long was I out this time?" Alex didn't understand the bone deep terror lapping at the back of his thoughts but he was not foolish enough to ignore it.

"Just a couple of days," Alex's eyes snapped open again at the wizened sound of the voice that was most definitely not Yassen's, "Oh, calm down, child. I'm not going to hurt you." An old man moved into the ex-spy's sight.

Alex reflexively pushed himself away from the stranger's voice, effectively falling off the edge of the bed onto his already broken wrist. The teen bit through his lip in stifling the scream before using his legs to press into the corner of the wall.

Peng huffed in frustration; this kid was in almost as bad shape as Yassen was when he was that age, "Child, what do you think you're doing? If you keep moving you're going to just hurt yourself worse. Now get back in bed before I force you."

It was the tone combined with the final sentence that did it; the annoyance mixed with veiled frustration and the believed threat of violence in the words caused Alex to see flashes of calm threats and cruel punishments. The half-remembered haze of that year-long agony at the hands of a sadist; of the drugs forced into his system after he failed to comply to one sick demand or another; of the combined bone deep terror and aching withdrawal he'd lived with since his escape a year before.

The screamed pleas of 'no more' and 'please don't hurt me again' had Yassen racing towards the room and the wised Asian amending his previous thought. _He isn't in almost as bad shape as Yassen was; he's in worse._

When Yassen burst into the room he took one look at the cowering Alex and rounded on Peng, "What did you do?" anger had turned Yassen's normally smooth voice into a demonic snarl.

"Don't growl at me, boy," the elder growled in return, a hint of red seeping into the smaller man's black eyes, "I have done nothing. I did not approach; he asked how long he had been asleep and I answered. I told him to return to his bed before he irreparably damaged himself. I do not like your implication, Yassen Gregorovich. Keep in mind that I treated you years ago when you were like this; I actually know what I'm doing." The assassin uncharacteristically bowed his head; cowed by his elder's reprimand.

"Then why is he like this?" he asked quietly, slowly walking over to the terrified young man in the corner.

Alex whimpered in fear and pressed himself farther into the corner. Yassen stopped about three feet from the terrified teen and held out his arms in a non-threatening way while crouching down, "Hush, little Alex, neither of us are going to harm you intentionally, hush." Alex didn't move, he merely pressed himself firmly against the wall, shying away from the assassin.

"_Sashka_, please calm down. I'm not going to hurt you, I promise, _Ангел мой_, I promise." Yassen Gregorovich, infamous assassin, was begging and it didn't bother him. What broke the heart he'd thought no longer existed was the utter fear in Alex's eyes – and the betrayal. It was as if the one who'd originally harmed the blonde had been ally turned tormentor.

Alex didn't move so Yassen slipped slightly closer and lowered himself into a cross legged sitting position. He thought for a moment before humming a half-forgotten lullaby softly, hoping to calm the youth's frazzled nerves.

"You promise? **He** said he wouldn't hurt me but he did anyway. But **he** never promised." The eyes the staring the Russian dead in the eye weren't those of someone in the present; they were uncomprehending and glazed, as if what Alex was looking at wasn't anywhere in that time.

Yassen studied Alex carefully, "I do promise. But you need to get back to bed, little Alex, your injuries have not yet healed." The Russian reached out slowly towards the others shoulder; Alex backed away fearfully. Yassen stopped his reaching arm and changed direction instead grabbing hold of the still warm dish that held the food and, after taking a bite of it himself to show that it wasn't poisoned, offered it to Alex, "Then at the very least eat something before you starve."

The teen eyed the food with distrust even after proved it safe. **He**'d done that once and the blonde's belly had felt like it was on fire for days. Carefully, cautiously, Alex reached for the plate with his good hand; snatching it way quickly before warily watching the men in the room while bolting the food down, not tasting any of it.

Once he had finished and he was satisfied that there were no painful side effects waiting for him Alex set the bowl back down on the floor and waited for the man sitting in front of him to make the next move. Yassen watched Alex carefully and reached for the mug of ginger tea and repeated the actions same as before. Alex responded same as before, but after his first gulp of tea he blinked and looked down at the beverage curiously, as if surprised that it tasted the way it did. "It's ginger tea, _Sashka_. Nothing to worry about," the pale haired Russian said gently as Alex took a second, slower sip.

"Alex, will you let Dr. Peng fix your arm? You re-broke your wrist when you fell off the bed." The teen's knuckles turned white with the grip he held on the cup and the wild look in his eyes told the assassin just how bad an idea it was to suggest that.

"Please, no. Doctors hurt; they always hurt. Please, no!" Tears leaked from his eyes unnoticed.

Yassen held up his hands in a placating gesture, "Alright, alright. Then will you allow me a chance to look at it? I promise to be as gentle as I can. But your wrist was badly broken before you fell, it's probably worse off now. Please?" He held out his hands slightly and waited for Alex to decide.

Heart beating like a rabbit, the young man shakily extended his left. It took most of the assassin's control not grimace. What had been a bad twist-break of the wrist had become a mangled mess of bone nearly or fully puncturing the skin and blood, copious amounts of blood. _How the hell is he not screaming from that?_

Yassen glanced over his shoulder at Peng who was leaning to get a look at the wrist himself, the assassin knew how to splint a nasty break in an arm or a leg but when it came to things like realigning all the pieces that made up the human wrist he feared that his knowledge was severely lacking. This needed a professionals care. But Alex would never let Peng get close enough to examine him.

Thinking quickly Yassen did the only thing he knew would get the results he needed. With one hand he reached out to turn Alex's arm slightly, as if trying to get a better look at the mangled bones, even as the other snapped out quicker than a striking snake. Alex never even saw the blow coming; one moment he was watching the other examine his injury, the next was darkness.

Alex's mind surfaced from the dark pool it had been drowning in only to hear two voices arguing nearby.

"You can't stay –"

"Watch me –"

"You need to eat –"

"Not –"

"It's been two weeks –"

"Go away – my fault –"

"Yassen – !"

"Go away – ! Bastard! –"

"I'm sorry – you need rest –"

And sleep claimed the half-conscious ex-spy once more.

Peng sighed softly as he finished situating Yassen in the assassin's own bed which looked as if it hadn't been slept in for several weeks. Things had been going so well with Yassen, but now... Peng sighed again as he reflected on the last two weeks. The younger male had been slowly regressing until he was in a state where even the slightest thing sent him off. He'd been like this during his first few years on Malogosto as well. Eventually the therapist had dismissed the boy as having PTSD; saying that he was too volatile to be trained. It had taken a year of constant work to get the boy's mind straightened out. Hopefully this time that self-rage would fade when the child awoke. Peng certainly hoped so; the last thing he wanted to deal with was a fully trained assassin in a berserker rage.

The doctor sighed; he acutely felt the weight of all the years he'd lived suddenly become heavier. He'd managed to have Yassen capable of functioning once and he could, feasibly, do so a second time if need be but he shuddered at the thought of going through that hell again. Yassen had been a mess all those years ago but it seemed that the young Alex Rider was in even worse shape if he had flashbacks of that magnitude.

Peng was just settling himself in a chair in the living room with a strong cup of tea when he heard a low, spiteful growl. Kia was crouched in the doorway to her Alpha's bedroom and was giving Peng a look of absolute hatred. The Chinese man only raised an eyebrow before releasing a guttural, primal growl. Kia immediately ceased all noise before carefully backing away, tail between her legs. "You know perfectly well what I am, whelp, and if you don't want for your Alpha to find what you've hidden from him I advise not challenging me again."

It took another two days for Alex to finally wake up. He didn't panic, he had no need to. He was alive, and without pain. In his book that usually meant that things were only going to get worse and there was no point in stressing.

"Are you going to panic and injure yourself worse this time, little one?"

Alex opened his eyes and turned towards the voice. "Did I panic again?"

"That has happened before?"

The man walked near enough that Alex could finally take in a full view. He was clearly Asian – Chinese by the ex-spy's guess – and short, no taller than five feet. White hair hung in a braid down to the man's rump and white flecked black eyes sat amidst a wizened face. The Asian wasn't hunched despite his apparent age.

A low cough brought Alex back from his musings, "Yeah, a few times. It's nothing."

"Nothing?" the old man asked contemptuously, "Nothing. Child you turned an easy break into a full blown mangle in your panic and you call it nothing?"

"Last time it was my knee," he paused to look at the bandaged joint, "I still have trouble walking. This," he lifted his arm to indicate the meat puzzle of a wrist, "is nothing."

Peng's frown deepened, if the boy was this indifferent to his state of mind then it was worse than he thought, "Child, it is not 'nothing', it is dangerous both to you and to those around you. You need therapy."

The brown-eyed youth snorted, a self-depreciating smirk marring his face. "Therapy is for the weak. I'm fine; I'll be ready to leave and never bother," he smothered an unruly sob before continuing, "Yassen again. He won't have to put up with a useless child ever again."

The machines attached to the youth began to beep as he became more upset; alerting the Russian to the conversation. Yassen felt something hot burn in his stomach at his _Sashka's _words; his hands curled into fists but before he could lend voice to his rage Peng pushed him out of the room with a deft hand and used the other to once again render the assassin unconscious, hopefully for a longer period of time than before. He needed time to try and get through to the boy and a Yassen in a regressed state of mind wasn't going to help.

"I should go." The doctor froze; that voice was devoid of life and he'd not heard that even from the assassin in his arms. "I just make things horrible wherever I go; I'm...poison." Alex had started to carelessly disconnect himself from the various machines – he couldn't feel much of anything right then – when an inhuman growl stilled him.

Without warning Kia leaped onto the bed and, using her impressive bulk, forced Alex back down and laid down on top of him fangs bared in his face.

"Please," the youth whispered pathetically, "you understand. Please let me go." Kia's response was to whimper and lick his cheek. "You didn't let me die before...I guess I should expect this...Yassen's wishes mean more to you than anything..."

"And you mean quite a lot to him," Peng said calmly, returning from once again depositing Yassen in bed, "Did you know that for the past two weeks he hasn't left your side? He hardly ate, barely slept, the only reason he wasn't sitting in that very chair was because I forced him to get some sleep for his own good. Just like now. Like you should be doing." Peng moved closer, giving Kia a slight push so that he could look directly at Alex, "You are in pain, I understand, but you are mistaken in your thoughts. Sleep."

The elder shuddered when Alex turned his lifeless gaze at him, "Believe what you wish." Regardless, the blonde settled back into bed before turning his head to stare listlessly at the far wall.


	7. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:**

Yay! We actually got writing done this week! A whole new chapter is done so it's one less thing I need to worry about. Anyway, I would like to thank all those of you who reviewed. We do so love it when you write back to us; it's always nice to receive praise for something you love. Anyway, personal thanks to:

**writertron – ** *fox face/fox grin* May~be! Just keep reading and I'm glad you like Peng so much; Sho-dono and I argued about him for a good two hours before we actually wrote him in. We'll have to see if you like the other three and a half OCs we've made just for this story, ne?

**Soul of an Elemental Alchemist –** Ya think? And all updates will be on Saturday unless life intervenes in an unexpected fashion.

If you mean 'got too damn lazy to write' as life intervening. Well, it is coming up upon the hell-week for these two authoress' (those with family know exactly what I'm talking about), so there is a small possibility that there will be no update next week. Just letting you all know so you don't break out the pitchforks if you have to wait an extra week.

*****Note: There will be no update on the Saturday after Thanksgiving.*****

**Chapter 6**

The next three days for Peng were absolute hell; getting Alex to stay in bed and keeping him healthy would have been hard under normal circumstances but when Yassen woke up later that afternoon, the long process of rebuilding his mental barriers was just as grueling as it had been the first time. Hopefully he would be able to retain full movement of his left shoulder but the doctor wasn't sure; the Russian wasn't nearly as young as he had been the first time. His body wouldn't be able to bounce back quite as quickly as before. But it was done, and for all intents and purposes he was sane so long as he kept calm.

The old Asian was busy fussing with Alex's IV fluids when the teen's soft voice interrupted him, "Can I go outside?" He sounded so like a shy child that at first Peng could only stare at him for a second before a smile broke over his face.

"Of course you may, child. But you are too weak to go alone, one moment." The old man hurried off, looking for Yassen. It took his excited mind a moment to remember that the young man had left earlier that morning for a supply run in the village and wouldn't be back for a while. With a sigh he turned to an old storage closet and finally managed to extricate an old but well maintained wheelchair. By the time he had returned to Alex's room the teen was sitting up, staring out the window almost longingly.

"Can you tell me, little one why you wished to venture outdoors?" the dragon quietly asked. "I don't mean to scold and it's perfectly fine to want to be out here, but I am curious."

Alex continued to gaze around at the flowers and ferns that ran near wild throughout the back of the property, "I wanted to smell fresh air," he finally admitted sadly and Peng could have kicked himself. Of course the boy would want some fresh air, he'd been active the majority of his life, being stuck inside must have been driving him crazy.

"Could you please wheel me over to the willow? I'd like to just sit there for a little while..." Alex trailed off; he sounded as if he feared his request would be denied.

"Of course, would you like a book?" the elder was careful to keep his voice soft. The massive flashback that left Alex unaware of his surroundings hadn't reoccurred but the miniature ones that had Yassen or the elder Asian holding him down to prevent self-harm were fairly frequent – especially if the tone was wrong or the volume too loud.

Alex looked up through the leaves of the old willow as Peng settled the chair in a comfortable niche between two roots and locked the wheels as if in deep thought. Eventually he glanced back at the old man, "Yes, I think I would. Something historical if you have it." Peng smiled; if there was one thing this house had no shortage of it was historical fiction and non-fiction.

"Any preferences?"

"Russian." The decisiveness of Alex's voice almost startled the Asian. "And, perhaps something fiction," and Alex withdrew. The doctor sighed, this, along with the mini-flashbacks were becoming more frequent – and more pervasive. Dr. Peng knew it was only a matter of time before the Brit had a massive one; the last one had had Alex screaming and re-mangling his wrist. If things continued in that fashion, the youth would lose the use of that wrist permanently. Though, the wrist was less important than the state of the blonde's mind; the old Chinese man could see the damage each episode left: The teen was like a stone the ocean beat against; with each new attack a little more of him was worn away. Peng had heard that phrase before though he couldn't remember where.

He really was beginning to panic about the ex-spy; Alex was vanishing before his eyes and it seemed nothing he did reached his patient. Yassen was another story altogether; the more Alex declined, the worse Yassen's mental state became. It was as if his sanity was tied to the Brit surviving; if Alex was fine, then so was Yassen.

But that made no logical sense to the doctor, they were both normal humans, there wasn't anything that connected them to one another. With a sigh Peng fetched a stack of particularly entrancing novels that were worn almost to the point of falling apart. They were some of Yassen's favorites, he knew, two were about soldiers during WWII the other three were assorted fiction novels from the Russian literature's Golden Age. Hopefully Alex would like them as much as the assassin.

He froze with the books in hand and a leg half-lifted to step. A thought had slammed him with cruel clarity: Atavism; the resurgence of latent genetics even after generations of being recessive. To his knowledge, Yassen and Alex were human but only because he had only ever assumed such. The elder Asian could kick himself; he'd have to do some research into their family lines. Peng groaned at the thought of tracking down the Russian's sketchy lineage. But first, he had to deliver a stack of books to his young ward before the brown-eyed teen did something stupid or had a flashback.

Now that he thought about it, weren't there flecks of gold in Alex's eyes? Didn't they seem to glow when he was having an episode? And what about Yassen? Didn't it seem as though he was **too** good at being killer, at blending in with whatever environment he was in? Wasn't his hair just a little **too** odd and weren't his eyes just **too** unusual shade of blue? Now his head was starting to hurt; if they were truly non-human how could he have missed it? Peng was a great dragon millennia ancient: How could have he not seen how different his two little ones were from the rest of the world?

By the time he returned, books in hand, Kia had joined Alex beneath the sprawling willow. She was stretched out in a patch of spring sunshine snoring softly, paws twitching, "Well, well, well, it seems you will have some company out here after all!" Peng said jubilantly as he held out the stack. Alex took the books carefully, having noticed their condition and flipped open the first one without comment. Peng shrugged easily as he turned back to the house, intent on beginning his research as soon as possible, before Yassen returned.

A quick trip to the Temple of Shifting Light, the archive of everything ever written, in rural China produced the scrolls that would, hopefully, reveal the lineage of his two favorite little ones. First was Yassen; magic had shown which scroll was related but not how and only careful tracing would reveal the Russian's history. Hours of searching later had the ancient dragon rocking back in his chair. Yassen was his, his descendent, his grandson, **HIS**. It was many generations down and confounded by marriages, divorces, introductions of other creature blood, and the cycle of life but his _sūn_ by heart was his _sūn_ by blood. Peng Li, the Dragon of Death, savored the knowledge of kinship to a child he'd adored.

Once the shock of his discovery wore off to the point where he could redirect his focus to go looking for the scrolls indicated for Alex when he realized that he wouldn't be able to stay there much longer and would most likely need to take the ancient documents back with him. How he would hide them from Ya– his grandson was a different issue.

He reasoned he could keep them in his room; Yassen was honorable enough not to snoop if he didn't give him reason to...but the primitive beast in him was roaring for the elder to coddle his kin now that the relationship was known. Peng pinched the bridge of his nose to stave off the approaching headache. He needed to get Alex back indoors and dinner ready before his grandson returned. He would find time tomorrow to trace his other little one's lineage.

He returned as the sun was reaching the half-way point between its zenith and the horizon and he found Alex and Kia in much the same positions as they had been in when he had left. He glanced about the house carefully searching for his grandson but discovered that he had as of yet to return. "How odd," the dragon muttered, he didn't usually spend such lengthy amounts of time in the village. With a shrug he began pulling out pots and pans and pulled the last of the meat out of the freezer to begin defrosting before heading outside to check on the ex-spy.

"Alex, it's time to come in. Would you like to come out here tomorrow to read again?" Peng asked as he wheeled the youth back into the house; he only half expected an answer.

"Yes, that would be nice," Alex's voice was a raspy whisper as it had been for days; it didn't seem to be returning to what it was before anytime soon; the good doctor was worried that all his screaming had permanently damaged the teen's vocal chords.

Peng smiled slightly as he finished situating Alex at the kitchen table and turned on an overhead light so that the boy could continue reading if he wished. For the next hour or so the atmosphere was peaceful; Alex read while Peng cooked. At some point in time Yassen must have returned because one moment Peng was turning to check the saffron sauce and when he turned back Yassen was calmly putting things away in the large fridge as if he'd been there for quite some time.

"You are later than I had expected, Yassen," came the soft comment; Alex was definitely not the only volatile person in the room.

"The clerk was a teenage girl who refused to cease her phone call long enough to ring up my purchases. It took an hour to get through the line and there were only six other people ahead of me." And the white-haired grandfather realized that it was not eggshells he was treading upon but very fragile china; life just became difficult.

"I see," he said softly, using the same voice he had on Alex all day, "well, no worries. Dinner is almost ready. If you would like to wash up after you finish putting the groceries away we can be sitting down to dine in less than twenty minutes."

Yassen narrowed his eyes, "May I speak to you alone, Dr. Peng?"

"Of course, let me set this to simmer."

Out in the hallway, the Russian unconsciously let a low growl rumble from his chest, "You're speaking to me like you do to my _Sashka_. Do you expect me to suddenly become enraged at the slightest thing?"

Peng felt the beast within him thrash about, screaming to tell his descendant what he had discovered. He sighed instead, "You have been more irritable than normal, as of late. I am simply trying to keep things from becoming hostile. It would do neither your _Sashka's_ nor your own weakened defenses any good. Remember what happened when you were young? When I first met you? You were angry and violent and ever since Alex has come back into your life you have been regressing back to that state." Peng's voice had grown tight as he spoke. Hopefully his grandson would understand.

"So you're blaming him?" the voice was deadly and the growl more noticeable.

"I'm doing no such thing, child. Do well to remember that I've dealt with all your various moods at one point or another. His mind is fragile right now and you aren't fairing any better. Listen to yourself, Yassen! You sound as possessive as an Alpha over his female and as equally irrational. Calm yourself, child, before you do something you regret." The ancient dragon was feeling all of his 10,000 years then; his precious _sūn_ was in pain and his other little one was fading more every day – how could things have come to this? "Please, go take a shower; it'll calm you and we can have a nice dinner afterward. Please, Yassen."

For a split second a look of rage passed across the Russians face before cooling just as quickly, "Alright," he muttered softly, he appeared to be in control of himself once more, "Just... give me a minute."

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	8. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:**

Oops, I forgot to give all of you a translation guide for the Russian and Chinese I've shoved about. So…

Words You Have Seen:

_Sashka_: _Aleksander_ is the Russian form of _Alexander_ which is shortened to _Sander_, which is made affectionate by making it into _Sasha_ and adding a –_ka_ for further indication of deep affection.

_Ангел мой_: Means "my angel" in Russian; a term used to show affection towards a lover or spouse.

_Govniuk_: Shithead in Russian; feel free to use it on the asses of the world.

_Sūn_: It means "grandson" in Mandarin Chinese…that's not entirely true, it means, literally, "descendant" but can be used to mean "grandson".

Words You Will See But I Don't Want to Keep Translating:

_Lóng_: Means "dragon" in Mandarin Chinese.

_Заинька_: It means "bunny" in Russian; it's an endearment for a child similar to Americans calling a child "sweetie" or something equally saccharine.

_Слабоумный_: Russian for "idiot"; guess who gets called that.

These words have been listed and translated for you; I'm not going to translate them in an AN ever again. So, if you forget: Flip back to this chapter. Now, if Sho-dono or I add **OTHER** words, we'll give the translation in **THAT** chapter's AN. These words you just have to reference. Have fun with that.

In other news, I hope all you American readers had a happy Thanksgiving. If you're not American I just hope you had a good week and that no major catastrophes happened in your area. And, yes, these chapters are getting progressively longer because Sho-dono and I can't figure out when/where a stopping point is. Also, this is my exam week; wish me luck. *crosses fingers*

**Chapter 7**

Stripped and under the scalding hot water had Yassen's mind only slightly clearer. He couldn't understand why he had such little control; it'd be years since he'd even come close to such slips. He leaned his weight against the wall; clenching his eyes shut he was reminded why he couldn't seem to think straight. That pounding agony in his skull and the searing pain in his belly constantly beat against him; he couldn't think with the unending torture bearing down upon him with no relief in sight. God above, it hurt and nothing he did made it go away.

Being near his _Sashka_ helped take the edge off but even the slightest perceived threat or insult against his angel sent fury coursing through his veins and blind rage clouding his vision. The assassin let himself slide boneless down the shower wall. _Why won't this agony end?_

When Yassen was finally able to pull himself together and make his way downstairs the scent of Peng's cooking made his mouth water. He reached the bottom of the stairs but paused when he saw that Peng was setting various plates and cups out on the old wooden table calmly, making sure none of his movements were too fast and that none of the dishes landed too loudly. Yassen observed this for a few moments before he entered the kitchen with the same calm as Peng. Alex glanced up as he entered and lowered the novel he had been reading; Yassen recognized it as one of his own favorites.

With the same deliberate calm, Peng seated himself at the table and waited for the Russian to join them. Once they were all seated there was a pause. None of them were quite sure what to say to the other. Finally Alex spoke up with a simple "Thank you," and proceeded to dig in. The two older men, after a glance at each other, joined him.

It was a silent affair that lasted barely an hour, with each savoring the scents and flavors of the food that had been cooked. When it ended Yassen gathered the dishes with the same slow gentleness that Peng had used to set them there and took them to the sink to start washing them, leaving Peng and Alex alone at the table.

"What did you read today, little one?"

"I read mostly Tolstoy today; I managed to get through _The Cossacks_ and am half-way through _Anna Karenina._

"Both are good choices, Alex."

"Mmm, I guess," and the listlessness was back.

"He's doing that more often, Yassen," the doctor turned to address the Russian only to notice the male gripping a plate hard enough to crack it.

"Tell me what is wrong, Yassen." The only response was the younger male's harsh breathing and his hands clenching the sink with white knuckles. "Child, answer me. I cannot fix what I do not know about."

"Hurts...hurts–" Yassen's sentence was interrupted by violent, bloody, vomit.

Peng could only stare in horror as Yassen slowly crumbled to the floor. The bloody mess that now spread from the edge of the sink down the cupboards was the bright red of fresh blood instead of the normal rusty brown caused by an old bleed. "YASSEN!" Peng cried as he fell to his knees beside the younger man.

Hours later, the old Asian had the Russian handcuffed to his bed. Alex was safely in his bed – all potential means of suicide removed long ago – with Kia to make sure he managed no mischief; though the wolf had fought fang and claw to be by her master instead. The dragon was, for the first time since he was a child, stumped; he could find no cause for his grandson's hematemesis; no gastric ulcer, no esophageal bleed, nothing – and the blood was too fresh to have been an older wound.

He lowered his head into his hands; Alex was degrading – fading, really – every passing day and Yassen was fading with the youth. What was going on?

A slight sound drew the old man's attention back to his grandson who was slowly coming to, "Yassen? Child? Can you hear me?" he asked gently, not wanting to aggravate the young man.

An indistinct mumble was his only answer as Yassen shifted, trying to bring one of his arms down to rub at his face only to discover the handcuffs.

"Mmmmm, you handcuffed me."

The white-haired Asian snorted, "You never stay in bed. Now, do you know what happened?"

Yassen closed his eyes, for a moment Peng thought the assassin had fallen asleep, "I was washing dishes."

"And? You vomited blood, Child – and not blood from an old bleed, either – before you passed out. You said you were hurting; what is wrong, Yassen? Don't lie to me," the last sentence had traces of a growl laced through it.

Yassen opened his eyes, they were glazed, almost feverish, though his skin remained cool, "I don't know, a pain in my stomach, I think. But... it's been there for a couple of weeks now." He was fading again, apparently worn out from his blood loss.

"Yassen. Yassen! Don't you dare fall asleep on me!" The old dragon growled low in his throat.

"Mmmmmm," Yassen twisted his head, "I'm so tired, Peng; it hurts and I can't think. The pounding in my skull and the fire in stomach never stop. It hurts but my _Sashka_, my angel, must be in worse pain. Please let me sleep; just a little nap..." The Russian was unconscious once more. The elder Chinese man snarled in frustration; could he do nothing to help his little ones?

Peng sat back and steadied himself. If he let his emotions get the best of him he wouldn't be able to help either of them, and the best he could do for them now was to find out what was causing this connection. With a determined nod he stood and fetched the scrolls he had brought back with him and spread them out on the small table situated in the corner of Yassen's room.

It only took an hour to trace Alex Rider's lineage. Wizards – sorcerers, really; wizards were useless little charlatans – his family tree was positively infested with them. A Sorcerer's Oath would explain everything that was happening. Any promise Yassen had made to John Rider as a youth would have become a Sorcerer's Oath that compounded upon itself when he grew to love the younger Rider. As Alex declined, the Oath would force Yassen to feel pain until he corrected the decline. Li Peng indulged himself and let his head meet the table. Why did things always have to be difficult?

With a heavy sigh the dragon lifted his head and gazed tiredly at his grandson. The old Asian berated himself for not realizing the implications of the older Rider's interest in teaching Yassen: Those with mystical heritages had tendencies to be drawn to each other. While not always in a romantic sense, it usually spelled doom for at least one of them.

The hard part now was healing Alex; he'd need to help the Russian put more effort into mental controls but the only thing that was going to make things better would to help Alex live again. And, by the appearance of his grandson vomiting blood, he'd have to do it soon or he'd lose them both.

Peng only had a few theories as to what he could do to help the little one and none of them seemed even the least bit likely to work. With a deep, bone weary sigh the dragon settled himself in the straight-backed chair in preparation to spend the night watching over his grandson. He knew that Alex was in just as bad a state but... the dragon thought that a bit of favoritism towards family wasn't such a bad thing, and Kia could always come get him if Alex tried something.

Three days had passed and Peng was kicking himself for even thinking that leaving Alex alone with Kia would keep him out of trouble. It all started the previous day; everything seemed to be on the mend: Yassen wasn't vomiting and Alex was actually smiling – he'd managed to stay out of his head for twelve hours straight. Then the Brit had asked what day it was and everything came crashing down; the teen had become very still and, for a moment, the ancient dragon had thought he'd turned to stone. Then his grandson had fallen to his knees, violently empty his stomach of its contents before proceeding to up-heave most of his blood volume. Now both boys were unconscious in Yassen's bed; he'd had to place them together when the Russian had begun convulsing at being separated.

Yassen's normally pale skin had developed a deathly grey cast to it even after Peng had inserted an IV and started to try and replace the blood that his grandchild had lost. He couldn't figure it out. Most cases of Oath Bonding consisted of a small connection, particularly if the promise wasn't made to the person directly. He needed to learn more about what the particulars of what that damnable vow was. And that meant it was time to drag John Rider from his grave. The little hell spawn had some serious explaining to do and a great deal of misery to answer for. Maybe he'd yank Ian Rider from the Peaceful Realms just to figure what in Creation he'd been thinking when he'd begun grooming Alex for the life of a spy.

Perhaps he'd even bring them both out together and see what the father thought of his brother's actions. That sounded like an excellent idea. With the fire of vengeance blazing in his veins, Peng created two interlocked circles before settling in an armchair. Reaching out with his considerable power, he searched for the troublesome pair that he wanted. Not that it was difficult to locate them: John Rider was rather settled in the Tranquil Plains area of the Peaceful Realms. Ian Rider was only slightly more bothersome – to drag out, not to find. The dragon smiled to himself when he'd found Alex's uncle locked within the First Round of Hell's Ninth Circle.

When the pair formed in their separate circles Peng didn't even get a chance to get a word in before John started yelling, "You turned my son into a SPY?"

Ian backed away from his enraged brother, "What did you expect me to do? I never wanted kids. I didn't have a clue how to raise him! Why do you think I hired Jack!"

"You were supposed to take care of him! You turned him into a lethal weapon, Ian! The Hell were you thinking?" John went to punch the idiot only to be met with a wall.

"For the duration of your visit to the mortal world you will be confined to those circles," the Chinese man intoned. "In honor of full disclosure, I dragged Ian from the First Round of Hell's Ninth Circle.

Alex's father's eyes widened in understanding, "You fucking bastard!"

Ian pressed his lips into a thin line for a moment before snarling, "Bastard? You're calling me a bastard? I'm not the one who trained the man who murdered me!" The enraged spy screamed.

"I'm not the one who needed to be murdered by him! I didn't set the circumstances, Ian. You and your screw ups and cruelty prompted SCORPIA to kill you. Yassen simply happened to be the best available. God damn it, Ian; Yassen is a more honorable man than you!" the elder Rider snapped back.

"More–! Bullshit! The only reason you think that is because you hated spending time with your fellow spies! You hated MI6! You probably thought your little **whore** was more interesting than your job!" Ian pressed his closed fist against the invisible wall separating him from his elder brother.

"Being dead gives me a great deal of time to watch the living, dear brother. You blackmailed those you were to save and protect. I can honestly say Yassen has never done so. I hated my fellow spies because they were just as or more so corrupt than you. Blunt is ruthless, Ian, he doesn't care about human life and you all but gave Alex to him on a silver platter! And don't think I don't know about your taste for violence; none of the people you've killed over the years deserved deaths like the ones you gave them. A quick, clean kill, Ian; is that so difficult for you to grasp? I've no doubt you would have either harmed my son or taken to torture had you'd lived another year." Peng raised an eyebrow; this was becoming very informative. Now he just needed them to stop yelling long enough for him to ask questions.

Meanwhile, Yassen was roused from unconsciousness by the yelling; barely awake and dazed he dragged his sluggish body out of bed and down towards the stairs. He could swear John was defending his honor and rebuking Ian's lack thereof.

The two brothers continued to scream at each other but the soft shuffling of bare feet on the hardwood floors drew their attention to the bottom of the stairs. A half-dead Yassen stood there, swaying slightly from blood loss, looking as if he were caught in the middle of a dream he didn't quite believe he was having, "John?" he muttered, "Ian?"

Peng was quick to guide the Russian to a chair. "You should not be out of bed. You should still be asleep; I gave you enough Ativan to knock out an elephant," the dragon was rambling and he knew it, but it was his grandson and things just seemed to go sideways when it concerned him.

"Is that really you, John?" the pleading tone in Yassen's slurred words was wrenching; his poor little one...

"Yeah, somehow – still dead though and about ready to take my dear brother's head off. You don't look well, Yassen; what happened?" At that moment, the Russian took on a decidedly green color that had the doctor pushing a trash in front the man just in time for him to vomit whatever was left of the assassin's blood. "Shit," was all the elder Rider could say; he recognized those particular signs very well.

"Yassen! Yassen!" John shouted pressing against the barrier that kept him trapped. It may have been almost twenty years since he had seen his student but that didn't stop his feeling of desperation as he watched the young man he'd practically raised fall to the floor, lifelessly.

"He's not dead but it seems you are at least somewhat aware of what is happening, Sorcerer. Care to recount what Oath you made him swear before I make sure you join the betrayer in Hell?" his voice was low and inhuman; he made sure it was. The foolish wretch deserved to be frightened; this was his grandson's life John had messed with!

"What? Sorcerer? What are you talking about? All I asked of _Cossack_ was that he keep an eye on my son if ever anything happened to me." John was panicking, he could see Yassen but he felt so... helpless.

The roar that followed the Brit's statement shook the house's very foundation. "Do not lie to me, human!" the dragon bellowed, eyes glowing red; his features shifting to something more reptilian, "I see the look in your eyes; you recognize what is happening! DO. NOT. LIE!"

John stumbled back within the confines of the circle in surprise, "The only reason I recognize this is because it is the way my mother died. Weak, dazed, throwing up blood with no obvious source, I've seen this before but I don't know what causes it. I swear."

Peng narrowed his gaze before growling, "I still smell the lie on you, human."

John paced in his circle as Ian watched on with an oddly pleased expression on his face, "Why are you so worried, brother? I say good bye and good riddance to the wretch." John whirled on him. "You bastard!" a sudden thoughtful expression crossed his face, "You said the same thing about Mum when she was taken away."

"Enough!" the Asian growled. "What did you make him swear? Your petty squabbling can wait; Yassen's life hangs in the balance."

John broke out of his thoughts with a slight jerk, "Um, I asked him to look after Alex if ever I was killed. That's all I can remember, and what does a promise made eighteen years ago have anything to do with what's going on right now? What's happening?" He was practically begging.

"You are a fool, Rider. Both of you. That 'promise' as you call it was, in fact, a Sorcerer's Oath; it created a bond between little Alex and Yassen. When he grew to love your son in a non-platonic fashion the bond became inflexible: If Alex was in some way harmed or in declining health the bond would force Yassen to act by causing the symptoms you see before you. Did your mother teach you nothing or were you too arrogant to not pay attention?"

John's eyes focused on Peng, "What's wrong with Alex? What's happened to my son? Where is he?"

"He is fading," was the elder's only answer.

Now Ian was paying attention, "Fading? What do you mean... fading?" His gaze suddenly focused on Yassen, "Did that bastard have anything to do with it?"

John snarled and tried to lash out at his brother once more being stopped by the spell, "Shut your mouth!"

"I quite agree with your better blood, boy," the tone was deadly and shivers of fear ran down both Riders' spines. "Yassen's part in the little one's current state is that he is the only reason Alex is alive. Blunt decided Alex should be 'retired' from spying and shot him. Yassen rescued him and has kept him sheltered within this home ever since. Alex fades because of MI6 and their missions. Yassen found two weeks prior, while the little one was comatose, that Alex's last mission was to infiltrate a slave trading ring. MI6 refused to rescue him and it took the boy an entire YEAR to escape his captor.

"From the report Yassen uncovered, Alex was raped and tortured. His family is dead, his friends are dead, and he blames himself. Coupled with the flashbacks he suffers his mind has become a dungeon. What has broken him further than whatever his captor had done I still have not found; Yassen and I believe it is somehow tied up with Alex no longer capable of being a spy but that does not explain everything," he paused then and measured each of the Riders. John was a wreck: He'd fallen to his knees sometime during the explanation and tears made tracks down his face without notice. Ian was another story: Cold, unfeeling; he showed no sympathy, no empathy for his nephew.

Peng took a deep breath even as he settled his grandson into a comfortable position on the floor. "Tell me of your mother. Why was she taken away? What did she try to tell you?"

"Huh?" John was shaking and not completely aware of his surroundings; Ian simply sneered.

The dragon snapped at the younger rider, "There is a reason you are trapped in ice, Ian Rider; do not tempt me to return you to a deeper round."

Ian shifted his weight slightly but maintained his disinterested countenance, "I don't know what our 'darling' mother may have told us at one point in time. I stopped caring once she was gone."

"She told us never to swear anything we didn't mean or didn't know we could follow through on. She used to say that to break an oath was to invite Death to be cruel; I always thought it was weird how she would make Ian and I swear never to use Oaths lightly. Mum said on her deathbed that she'd brought that fate onto herself," was the elder Rider's more informative answer; his glare towards his brother was watery but fierce, "Can you have some respect for the dead, Ian? Seriously, she was our mother; she birthed us and she died – respect that."

Peng rubbed his chin pensively, what John said made perfect sense but... that didn't explain why Yassen cared so much for the youngest Rider. There had to be something else, "That explains why Yassen and Alex are in this position but... the extent of the bond is almost unparalleled by other cases of sworn protection to the parent of the child instead of the child itself. Did you take Yassen to meet your son? Perhaps soon after he was born?"

"Yes. But what does that have to–"

The doctor cut him off with his next question, "And what was Yassen's reaction?"

John narrowed his eyes and pressed his lips into a thin line, "He...was human for wont of a better word. Yassen enjoyed spending time with my son; it brought a smile to his face and Alex loved whenever they played. Now what does that–"

"No, I mean his **first** reaction to meeting your son. That meeting formed the basis for all the others."

John paused for a moment as if trying to remember. He answered slowly, "It was a day or so after he was born. Helen was still in the hospital recovering. Um," he closed his eyes and furrowed his brow, "She was holding Alex when we came in. I had told Helen of Yassen before but…that was her first time meeting him face to face. She let him hold our son." A sudden expression of realization crossed his face, "It was right before I made him promise me that he would keep Alex safe."

The dragon rubbed his temples; oh the headache, "You ignorant, cretinous, imbecilic, blind, birdbrain; do you have any idea of what you've done? You bound their lives! You all but married them!"

John flinched as if he'd been slapped, "B-but I didn't know! How could I have known?"

"Perhaps by using that little thing inside your skull called a brain?" Ian muttered sarcastically.

"What?"

"What were you thinking? Asking an assassin – a known bloodthirsty assassin – to look after a little baby. Were you high? Drunk?" his brother's spiteful words caused John's temper to, once more, flare.

"You rat bastard! Yassen is trustworthy, unlike you. You trained him to work for MI6 and then legally designated them as his guardian! What kind of imbecile does that? I should have made Yassen his guardian; at least then I would have been assured of Alex's safety. I should–"

"**ENOUGH!**" the two brothers snapped to attention. "I agree that Ian is a self-centered sociopath clearly lacking in common sense but I must disagree with your last statement," the white-haired Asian snarled when the younger Rider began to smile smugly. "You seemed to have missed the part where I stated you'd all but married the two. Swearing a Sorcerer's Oath of protection towards a child while being held is an ancient means of betrothal; having Yassen raise Alex would have complicated their bond until it drove them mad. Society would have dictated they had a father-son relationship instead of a spousal bond. Do you understand?"

Alex's father frowned deeply, "I betrothed my twenty-one year old student to my new-born son?"

"Precisely."

John groaned and used the barrier to childishly bash his skull against the wall.

"Don't be so hard on yourself; the bond does not force them to love each other – it just encourages it. Yassen loves your son simply because he does; your foolish ignorance merely disallows him of thinking it's wrong to love the little one..." the dragon trailed off, "and that explains Alex's comment more than not..."

"What?"

Dr. Li Peng waved him off, "I believe I know part of what's wrong with Alex, that's all." He clapped his hands together, "It is time I sent you back to the Peaceful Realms – well, send you back; Ian gets to return to Hell." And before the elder Rider could protest they were gone.

Peng sighed and rubbed his hands tiredly over his face. Things were going from bad to worse. Surreptitiously the dragon glanced down at Yassen's prone figure; he hoped the man didn't remember this in the morning. He truly, desperately hoped that Yassen would simply dismiss it as a twisted dream brought on by blood loss and stress. "Right, like that ever happens," the old man grumbled before setting about the task of hauling his grandson back upstairs.


	9. Chapter 8

**Author's Note:**

I'm going to say this now: This is the absolute **shortest** chapter in the entire story. Also, for you to know, the story (in general) will end with the most annoying of cliff hangers which we will then continue into an equally long sequel. Which translates to: You're stuck with us a while longer. One more thing…

*Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee* H.J. Bender reviewed! *Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee* Bender's "Smells Like Teen Spirit" was what first got me interested in Yassen/Alex stories! All who read this must go read Bender's "Smells Like Teen Spirit" because of its awesomeness. *jumps up and down like a hyper child* Thank you for reviewing everyone – especially H.J. Bender!

*Watches her co-authoress jump about like a chimp on speed with a raised eyebrow. Looks at the readers* I'm not even gonna bother. *Leaves*

**Chapter 8**

The morning came and went peacefully; Yassen didn't awake until mid-afternoon and Alex simply never woke. If his grandson remembered anything of the night prior he didn't mention it; not that it made things any easier for the Chinese man. How was he supposed to explain magic and all its subtopics to a man who barely believed in the existence of God? Perhaps showing would be easier? It was rather difficult to deny that dragons lived if a massive one stared you in the face...

Now the only problem he faced was trying to find an opportune time to shift. And then the subsequent issue of convincing the trained killer not to kill him. Oh the joy of babysitting a paranoid, street-wise assassin. _Well, it certainly can't get any worse at this point_, he thought foolishly. Perhaps he could make things easier on himself and just ask Yassen to talk to him in the garden then spring it on the Russian before he could react. His scales would protect him from anything his grandson could attempt and, really, what was the worst that could happen?

"You're going to do something stupid aren't you?" The cool female voice startled Peng. He turned quickly; fingers stretching into dangerous claws... and froze at the sight of Kia sitting not ten feet away, gaze disapproving.

"What are you–? No! And since when have you cared as to what I indulge in?" The dragon was flustered at being caught in his musings but that didn't mean he was going to let the nosy pup get the satisfaction of seeing it.

"I've cared since they've involved my Alpha and pack mate. You dragons are content to be loners; your kind has never much cared for family units. Life comes and goes but it never much bothers a dragon if they lose their kin. I'm loup-garou, old man; pack is everything and your stupid stunt – whatever it is – could threaten that," she paused to huff a low growl. "Think of something intelligent that doesn't seem like it would fail nine times out of ten."

Peng opened his mouth to dispute the mutt's claim and paused, this was perfect. "How willing would you be to introduce your Alpha to magic?"

_I should have listened to Da when he said dragons were a bunch of airbrains chasing mayflies._ She didn't like the look on his face. "Define 'introduce,'" was her simple, wary reply.

"He is caught in a Sorcerer's Oath and in order to assist him in getting it under control I need him to understand that magic does exist," Peng was using every persuasive tone in every layer of his voice and praying that she would listen and help him.

Kia glared; she knew what the old fart was doing and hated every second of it. "Who the Hell bound him in Sorcerer's Oath?"

"An ignorant young man who only wanted what was best for his son. I think he's still kicking himself for accidentally betrothing Alex to Yassen," the elder commented offhandedly. "Will you help? Your Alpha will die if I can't set things to rights. If Yassen understands magic and the role it plays in both his love and his life he'll be more equipped to heal Alex. At this point," he paused to sigh, "at this point, I don't believe I can reach your pack mate; but Yassen can if only he knew what he was doing."

"I still want to know why you give a damn; you're a dragon and while, arguably, Alex isn't human in the strictest sense, my Alpha is–"

"Isn't," he interrupted, "Yassen is of my blood."

Kia paled as much as her wolf form allowed. Her Alpha was a dragon too? But he felt so much like her old pack!

With a whine Kia lowered herself to the floor in order to think more clearly. "You know," Peng continued as if it just occurred to him, "two generations back I thought I saw a loup-garou in his lineage; a Noroi Lunascurtare, I believe." Kia's ears went flat. The dragon was trying to coerce her into helping him in his plots; but Noroi was her Nana on her father's side and that made Yassen kin as well as her Alpha.

"Depending on how you wish to present it to him I might or might not help. Speak."

"Mmmm, my original plan was simply to spring my form on him and hope for the best but further reflection has made realize that as a fool's errand. Perhaps, we should..." As the two continued to plot, neither noticed a Russian assassin listening to every word and quickly becoming overwhelmed.

Yassen crouched down on the staircase, his breath coming in silent gasps as he listened to the only two people he had ever trusted from the get-go plotting. He couldn't take this. Slowly, silently, the Russian crept back up the stairs to the second floor and slipped into the library, closing and locking the door behind him. Shaking horribly, Yassen slid down and settled on the floor.

It hurt, the assassin realized. Betrayal hurt more than he'd thought it would; but perhaps that was because of who it was more than the act itself. He wondered if Alex had felt even a fraction of this when he realized that MI6 wasn't coming to save him from the rape and drugs or when Blunt shot him after years of grudging but devoted service. Perhaps his _Sashka_ withdrew to escape ever being betrayed again; he wouldn't blame the kid if the blonde did. To use teenage vernacular: This sucked. He definitely preferred getting shot; at least then the pain could be ignored.


	10. Chapter 9

**Author's Note:**

Alright, I've not much to say except…I love Hawaii! Seriously, this is being posted from Kona, Hawaii on beautiful lanai. Anyway, Sho-dono and I wrote a side-story called "This Isn't Wonderland"; it's a Leverage fic that's sort of a crossover (Sho-dono can explain it better) and it hooks up with this story sometime around chapter 24-25. Go read it if you feel like it but make sure to read the warnings; I didn't actually write them up so they could be ignored.

Sho-dono here and I hate Florida. Seriously, people call this place the Sunshine State but it hasn't gotten above 50 degrees Fahrenheit today, I'm FREEZING! Anyway, about that side-story thing, I watched the newest episode of Leverage the other day and it got me thinking that 'Hey, we don't know anything about Eliot's past, I wonder what he was doing all those years before he joined Leverage, inc.' and it just kind of snowballed from there. ENJOY!

**Chapter 9**

Peng scrubbed viciously at the dishes that had been sitting idly in the sink. His conversation with Kia had not gone as planned. He wanted to use a shock tactic; she swore she's hurt him if he tried. But subtlety had never really worked on Yassen. Speaking of his grandson, he'd not seen the man all day. Frowning, the doctor finished the dishes before setting out to find the wayward Russian. He spent almost an hour searching through the four story house; he wasn't in his room, the basement, the backyard, or the training room. Peng was beginning to worry. The only place the black-eyed man hadn't checked was the library but he kept getting an ominous feel every time he approached. The dragon commanded Kia to keep Alex out of library while he investigated. Trying the doorknob proved it locked; not like that wasn't difficult to overcome – a little twist of his power and the door was unlocked but blocked by a weight.

"Yassen?" he queried.

"Go away," was the quiet, cold reply.

Peng pressed against the door again, "Yassen, open the door."

"No."

"Yassen, stop acting like a child and open the door!" the dragon's voice deepened angrily.

"No."

Peng sighed; he was starting to feel his age again, "Alright, if you won't open the door, then please tell me what is wrong."

"Why would you care what a mere **mortal** would think?" his voice was bleak, depressed.

And that was the 'Oh, shit' moment. "Yassen, how much of the conversation did you overhear?" Honesty was always best with the Russian; feigning ignorance was the shortest way other than harming Alex to rile his temper.

"Everything."

"Then you would know that you are kin to me; my descendent, Yassen. It's with several 'greats' attached, but you are my grandson; I'd be more than happy to produce the scrolls for you."

Yassen didn't answer for a few moments, "Don't bother." There was silence after that.

"Damn it, child! Do you not understand? You were the grandchild of my heart for years; can you even begin to fathom how much it means to know that you are also the grandson of my blood? Please, Yassen, talk to me; do not shut me out now," the dragon leaned his forehead against the sturdy wood. "I love you dearly, child; you have known this since Malogosto. That does not change now that you know I am not human nor did it change when I found you were of my line. Yassen, please."

Yassen pressed his forehead against one of the shelves and squeezed the corner tightly as he listened to the man who had betrayed him.

"Please, grandson. Tell me what is wrong. I cannot fix something if I do not know what is broken," his tone was beseeching and he was half a second away from praying to the gods for aid.

Yassen felt a blaze of anger run through his chest, "What's wrong? What's wrong? You've been lying to me since the moment I met you!"

"And what was I supposed to say, Yassen? 'Hello, I'm a ten thousand year old dragon; tell me all your problems?' How would you have reacted? Spirits, child, I've not told anyone who could not see for themselves that I am anything but human in over two thousand years. I did not even know you were of my blood until I started investigating yours and Alex's bloodlines to find the cause of your ailments," he was becoming frustrated but smothered it down; it would do know good to get angry in this situation.

"But you couldn't have mentioned it once you decided to move into my house?"

He took a deep breath, "You barely believe in a god, my child; what would you have done had I said I was not human? What would have been your reaction; be honest with yourself. You would not have believed me; you would have either thought I was going mad or lying. Your response to those thoughts would have probably been to kill me; you would have considered me a threat, grandson. Can you honestly say you would have done otherwise?" He clenched his eyes, "I have always hated causing you pain; what kind of pain would I have put you through had you either of those reactions and been forced to kill me to protect your angel? If you truly heard mine and Kia's conversation you would know we were trying to come up with a way to explain everything to you. Do you understand, dear child?"

Yassen took a breath, trying to calm himself. Li Peng was right, as always, but that didn't stop it from hurting. Wasn't knowing the reason behind why someone did what they did supposed to ease that? He couldn't think straight, the air was too stuffy in here. The Russian glanced about his surroundings and noticed the large picture window. It had hinges but the previous owner had had it painted shut, maybe he could force it.

"Don't even think of leaving through the window."

Yassen ignored the advice. He wasn't going to leave, he just needed some air.

"Yassen, I'm serious. Just open the door; forcing the window open will do nothing to alleviate any anxiety you have. In this case, the air is not confining you; it is only your mind trying to give physical cause to an emotional problem. Please open the door and let's just talk; I will even let you hit me."

Yassen paused, his hand resting on the sill. Did he want to look the man who had been lying to him for twenty years in the eye and talk? No. He started pushing against the aging wood, a creak of protest sounded at the added pressure. The crashing sound of destroyed wood and glass forced the elder into action; he burst through the door and grabbed his grandson before the fool could injure himself further.

Yassen could only stare uncomprehendingly at the glass and wood shards that had pierced his skin; he couldn't feel them. It was as if his entire body had gone numb; until he felt Peng's arms wrap diagonally across his chest. The touch burned as if he was being attacked by flames, hungry to devour him. Reacting instinctively Yassen snapped his head back in a reckless attempt to break his torturer's nose. When that failed he began to struggle in earnest; desperate to escape the painful grip.

"Calm, calm, grandson. Be still before you further hurt yourself," the tone was tranquil; the dragon repeated them over and over until the man in his arms ceased struggling.

Yassen's body sagged to the floor; the pain of the other's grip still stinging and the sharp pinpricks of the glass and splinters were slowly filtering into his periphery. Everything seemed...fuzzy...almost. As if he were looking at the world from beneath a sheet of warped glass.

Peng relaxed his grip slightly as he felt the younger man's body begin to shake. A glance at his face showed silent tears making their slow decent down his cheeks. One tear rolled slowly down and dripped off the paled haired mans chin and Peng's gaze followed it as it landed on his own sleeve where it disintegrated in the covering of dragonfire that surrounded the old man's arms.

"It burns," Yassen whimpered pathetically.

"I know. Don't fight it; just let it engulf you; I promise it will make you feel better," the Chinese man's smile was strained. "I can't heal Alex like I can heal you; don't fight the fire and it won't hurt."

"You lied before, Peng; you could be lying now."

"I did not lie, Yassen; I simply did not tell what you did not ask. And the moment I found that you needed to know I tried to conceive a way to tell you without this sort of reaction." The elder shifted their positions until Yassen was in the small man's lap; head leaning on his shoulder. Perfect position for the dragon to comb his fingers through his grandson's short hair, "Relax and let me take care of you, _sūn_; just let go for now." Li Peng let the dragonfire spread across the rest of the Russian's body.

Yassen twitched as the fire spread, it hurt a bit, at first, but after a couple of seconds it felt more like being wrapped in a blanket that had been warmed by the fire on a cold winter night; comforting, relaxing. Slowly the assassin's eyes slipped closed as his body relaxed. Peng allowed himself to lean back, "Thank the gods." He sighed before making himself more comfortable; he was going to be there for a while.


	11. Chapter 10

**Author's Note:**

Today is Christmas! YAY! Joy to the world and let peace reign! Since it's Christmas Sho-dono and I are giving you a double chapter dose! Enjoy the gift and the holidays! MERRY CHRISTMAS!

This is going to be completely off topic but I'm currently at my grandparent's house and I look around and I'm seeing things hanging on the walls that they bought during their extensive travels around the world; works of art, gold filigreed mirrors, sculptures, and (most eye-catching) their crystal statuettes. Now, my grandfather is Russian (and when I say that I mean he is first generation American and his parents couldn't speak a lick of English) so when I ask him about where they found these interesting tidbits I find myself learning, instead, about the different towns and cities that once existed in Russia shortly after the second World War (he served in the Navy during so you can imagine how old he is) and he can recall names and places with a surprising amount of accuracy. Sorry I've just completely gone off on a ramble here… but how many of you can honestly say that you know the name of your great-great-great grandfathers? (Vasiely – I don't know if that's how it's spelled – and Gregori) I guess it's just another interesting thing about the holidays.

Try asking your family about the history of your blood; see what interesting things you can find out.

**Chapter 10**

It was like floating in lukewarm water. Silent. He couldn't feel anything physically, but there was a slight tingle at the edge of his awareness. As if someone was there. Waiting.

A whisper finally broke the silence: "Wake up, child."

Yassen tried to curl away from the voice only to be held still by strong, unmovable arms.

"Wake up, my dearest grandson," it was louder that time. And suddenly everything was too much: He could hear and smell everything and it was too much and then that warm hand pressed against his forehead. Everything returned to normal. Groggily, the Russian opened his eyes; his gums itched and his eyes burned ever so slightly but he noticed most acutely the steady heartbeat under his ear and the iron bands of flesh holding him in place.

"Who?" he slurred tiredly. He couldn't move. He could hear, smell, and see everything but... he couldn't feel anything. It was as if his body had gone numb.

"Why can't I move?"

"You can move," amusement tinged the words.

Yassen tried and failed to lift his arm, "No..."

"Try again; I'm afraid my dragonfire woke your blood. You'll have to readjust to your new abilities; whatever they may be. Try to move again, child," Peng's voice was soft and the near-constant purr was comforting. "When you can move properly we really must talk. Unless you wish to talk now and try to move later?"

The Russian groaned, all he wanted to do right now was sleep.

"Come, stop being such a lazy child. Up or speak; your choice."

Yassen groaned again and turned his head away from the voice, almost unconsciously shifting his arm to drape it over his face. He missed. The arm ended up resting about his waist.

"See," the elder teased, "you can move. You are simply being lazy. Now, you need to choose."

"Talk," he mumbled.

"Care to start by explaining your reaction? You destroyed the window."

"Mmmm, needed some air."

"After I told you that it wouldn't help."

"Didn't care, just needed it. Couldn't think of a reason not to."

"Did I or did I not spend three years teaching you how to avoid that kind of logic?"

"Sorry..." Things were growing fuzzy; he was sinking slowly into unconsciousness.

Knuckles rubbed against his sternum, waking him with harsh pain.

"No sleeping, Yassen; continue your explanation of why you reacted to mine and Kia's conversation," there was no anger or annoyance in the voice; only calm curiosity.

Yassen frowned, forcing himself to examine himself, "It... reminded me of when... my parents died."

"How so?"

"It felt like I was losing them all over again."

"But neither Kia nor I have died; so how were you losing us?" Peng shifted his hold so he could card his fingers through Yassen's hair again.

The younger man didn't answer for a long minute. His body wasn't feeling as heavy as it had before but he still couldn't find the strength to bat away the hand in his hair. "Couldn't trust you... to stay," he mumbled even as he tried to shift his head to dislodge the fingers.

"You should know better, dear child; you couldn't get rid of the two of us no matter how hard you tried," the dragon pressed a kiss to the Russian's forehead in affection.

Yassen grunted in annoyance, he hadn't had anyone show him any sort of affection in twenty years. It felt odd.

"You're wriggling like a worm, grandson." The assassin narrowed his eyes; was the old man snickering at him? "There are some things you need to learn about both aspects of your blood have awakened: The more important of which is that both the loup-garou and the dragon in you are tactile creatures. In more simple terms: Get used to the affection, kid." There was definitely snickering.

Yassen growled low in his throat, tactile those creatures may be, but he had grown up without parental affection. As far as he was concerned; any touch was meant to harm.

Yassen wrinkled his nose and tried again to lift his arm to dislodge the older man.

"Grandson, explain why you are so uncomfortable with someone caring for you."

"Must you be so irritating?"

"You can't fix something without admitting it's broken in the first place. Let's call this bear your soul hour."

_Vindictive, evil, nosy, asshole. _"Touch has always equaled pain for me, Peng; you know that so why the Hell do you keep asking the same question?" Yassen didn't care if he was reprimanded again: he the returning growl was far more intimidating than his; that really wasn't fair. An old man who didn't even reach five feet shouldn't be more intimidating; it just wasn't right.

"Because you don't admit it, ever. You never allow yourself to show your pain or that you want something softer; I or someone else has to pry it out of you. I had to find out you were in pain when you started vomiting blood, grandchild. That was rather terrifying for me to see; to be there and unable to help you. As saccharine as that sounds, it is the truth. I know you hate touch; but can you expect to do that with Alex? Could you deny him affection simply because you are uncomfortable with the concept?

Yassen's eyes snapped open in shock, "What?" he breathed, "I have never denied him any affection. When he was small–" Peng cut him off.

"When he was young so were you. You had not been fully immersed in the lifestyle you chose to pursue alone for years at a time at that point. Ever since John Rider died you haven't taken up a partner or student. You have been on your own for eighteen years. Things are different now."

Yassen became rigid, "But..."

"No 'buts' Yassen. Since you brought him here I haven't seen you give that boy even a hint of affection. You kept yourself separated from him and when he reached out to you for comfort you broke his wrist. Those are not the actions of a man who holds affection towards the one those actions are directed at." Peng gripped his grandson more firmly. He knew it would be painful for Yassen to hear this but he needed to.

"Before you were here I comforted him," his voice was pleading and he knew he was grasping at straws. The assassin couldn't bear to think he'd been cold to his _Sashka_; Alex was all he had besides Kia and the stubborn old doctor.

Memories of all the times when Alex worked for MI6 flashed before his eyes; all the times he was cruel and every time he'd ever hurt the teen. _No, no, no, no, my angel..._

Peng felt his grandson begin to shake and held tighter, "Listen to me, child. I know you did not realize what you were doing. You were trying to keep Alex safe while doing your job. I understand... but he does not." Peng pressed his hand against Yassen's forehead and gently pulled the assassin's head back to rest against his collarbone before whispering in his ear, "I can help you fix what has happened. The mistakes made on both sides, but you have to let me in."

"Anything for my _Sashka_; anything for my angel," the broken Russian whispered.

Peng nodded sagely, "Relax, and open your mind."

Yassen did as the dragon advised and allowed the elder to draw him into the dark chaos of his own mind.


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

It was dark and damp, with the familiar sickly sweet scent of drying blood and rotting meat inside his own mind, and yet, Yassen felt perfectly at home.

The Chinese_ Lóng_ beside him snorted, "And this takes macabre to a whole new level. Grandson, how can you stand such a morbid extreme for a mindscape?" Peng paused, "Well, this explains quite a bit actually; what corpse do you have rotting in here, Yassen?"

Yassen turned his head to look for Peng, but it was too dark, he couldn't see anything, "Corpse? I don't know what you mean."

"I think you do, child." Peng breathed out a puff of flame and let it hang, unmoving, in the air around his great, horned head. The light cast a harsh relief against the murk and revealed Yassen sitting cross legged on the ground, eyes covered with a black cloth. His grandfather's snort of derision was thundering to his small body; it would figure he'd be a child in his own mind when he never was one in reality. "So you are both ignorant and denying your ignorance. Wonderful; things became a great deal more difficult. Grandson, remove your blindfold and help me locate the corpse you've left to rot in your own thoughts."

Yassen furrowed his brow and reached up to feel at his eyes, there was no cloth, "I'm not wearing a blindfold."

The gust of wind from his left was almost a typhoon, "Then what do you see?"

The assassin stumbled slightly but kept to his feet, "Nothing. I can't see; it's pitch black in here."

"No, it is not. I can see you perfectly. Your form looks to be around thirteen and you are most definitely wearing a blindfold. Can you not see that your own ignorance of your problems blinds you?"

Yassen growled, "I think I would know my own mind you interfering old man."

"Says the man who did not realize he was causing his angel pain by not being affectionate; by being cold and giving off the implication that said angel was only a temporary burden," the Asian didn't pull any punches; the assassin needed to see how little he really knew about himself.

The Russian felt as if the breath had been forced from his body at the reminder of what he had done. His breath came in a stuttering gasp even as the ground beneath his feet began to tilt.

"Yassen!" the dragon roared, grasping the man-teen gently in his claws. The assassin clawed at where the barrier over his eyes was located, trying to remove it. His fingers scrabbled at the tight cloth that blinded him but even as he began to wrench it from his face he could feel his skin peel with it. Finally he pulled the damnable cloth – and a fair amount of flesh – from his face; panting from the shear mental exertion he looked up at the one holding him.

"Holy shit..." Yassen managed to get out before falling flat on his rear. He hadn't expected what he was going to see. The gigantic beast that crouched before him looked as if it had come straight from one of the old Chinese legends that spoke of the ancient race. "I knew you weren't lying about being a dragon but I wasn't expecting this…" The beast in front of him only chuckled. The Russian looked down at himself, "Why am I a teenager?"

Peng settled himself upon the cold floor, setting his great clawed hands on either side of his grandson before answering, "You should learn to take some people at their words, child. Why do you think? Your psychological body has manifested itself at the age before your life changed, there is a reason. You just need to find it."

Yassen closed his eyes, "My parents were murdered in front of me at fourteen; you know that, Peng."

The dragon lowered his head slightly in a nod, "And because of that what happened?"

"I joined SCORPIA. I became an assassin and met John Rider; he introduced me to my _Sashka_," the man-teen smiled slightly at the thought of John and Alex; they had to be the two dearest to his forgotten heart.

Peng sighed slightly, "And what did joining SCORPIA cause you to lose?"

This time the assassin had to pause in thought before answering, "My humanity."

"Partially, what else?"

The young man's brow wrinkled in combined confusion and concentration, "My ability to accept and give affection?"

_Finally!_ the old dragon thought in annoyance. "Exactly. Now, look around you. This is the shape your mind has assumed."

Around the pair was dank darkness, the cloying too-sweet smell of decomposition, and rough-hewn stone of a Medieval-style dungeon. In one corner the darkness was too deep to see what lay hidden within it.

"What lies in the corner? What corpse fouls your mind incessantly?"

"NO!" was what broke out before Yassen could contain it; whatever was there he didn't want to see. He didn't want to know what horror he'd left to rot. Yassen was a grown, well-trained assassin and he was absolutely terrified of what was concealed in the darkest corner of his mind.

Peng watched Yassen carefully, there was something wrong. Slowly thin, dark threads began to twine their way over his eyes. "YASSEN! What have you left there!"

_Nonononononononono; don't want to see, don't want to see. Can't look again; don't want to see..._The world around them began to warp and twist; where a dungeon had been before there was a single cell with the young Russian shackled to the wall within; the dark corner farthest from the teen's self-prison. The blindfold had returned only to be reinforced by chains.

Peng jerked his head in surprise as his tail lashed at the smaller confines. It was one of the most violent denials he had seen in centuries, "Child," he tried to coax gently, "You will not begin to heal until you accept what is there."

"I can't; please don't make me look," he whimpered pathetically; he'd sounded like the child he appeared to be.

It was as if he couldn't move past whatever had caused the corpse in the first place. A trauma of some sort ... perhaps... a death? "Who died? Who left you alone?"

"Please stop; I don't want to see."

"Your mother, father? Your two training partners? One of your teachers? Or was it John Rider?"

Peng had expected a volatile reaction but the shear violence in Yassen's was...unbelievable. The Russian screamed before the mindscape warped once more into a world of all white; the dark corner now visible with the decaying corpse of John Rider. The assassin was on his knees; head buried in his hands as he cried and shouted his hatred and sorrow for the father-figure he'd lost.

The blue-eyed man mentally conjured objects only to have them shatter or explode; various parts of the surrounding world would shift to scenes of past murders – every kill Yassen had ever made – while others would randomly change between scenes of John and those of Alex when he was small. The near-skeleton dragged itself up only to stumble over to where pale youth was crumpled.

"Your fault," it blamed. "It's your fault I'm dead, Yassen. It's your fault my son was raped. IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry; I tried, John, I tried. Please stop..." he choked out between bawling sobs. "Please don't hate me!"

"Hate you?" it questioned mockingly. "I don't hate you; I just wish it were you who died!"

Peng reared back in shock before anger blazed through him. With a mighty roared the ancient parted his mighty jaws and filled the chambers with flame. Destroying the mutilated effigy of what was once a kindhearted man. When the fire had burned itself out the old dragon coiled itself about his grandchild with a low comforting growl, "It is gone, child."

It took a few minutes for the assassin to calm himself before he could talk, "It was my fault for being careless; I put him in a position that threatened all he loved and he died because of it. Then Alex went to Ian and I couldn't do anything to stop that; I couldn't keep Alex safe and that was my fault..."

"No," Peng growled, "none of that was your fault. There are things in this world that are impossible to control. You must move on."

"But..." he whispered in protest.

"It is not your fault. You must believe that child. I have known you for nigh twenty-five years. There are some things in this world that you cannot take blame for. You must learn to forgive yourself." The dragon nudged his grandchild's arm gently.

Yassen gently uncurled and rubbed the tear tracks from his face, "I want to go back and hold my _Sashka_ now, Grandfather." The man looked up at his kin; grown and at least somewhat sane once more.

"Of course, my child," was the dragon's pleased reply.


	13. Chapter 12

**Author's Note:**

Happy New Year! I've a wonderful winter break and am actually looking forward to the coming semester. Now, if you think we've done something interesting with magic now…well, I hope you feel the same later when we actually do a crossover. Just so you know, Sho-dono and ARE planning on writing a sequel and **maybe** a few oneshots besides "This Isn't Wonderland". *looks around shifty-eyed and whispers* _The crossover wasn't my idea…_

The crossover(s) may not have been your _original_ ideas but once I put them into your head you RAN with them. By the way, please check out our one-shot "This isn't Wonderland", it doesn't become relevant to the current plot for a few more chapters but we would like to know what you all think of it anyway. Thanks.

**Chapter 12**

When Yassen opened his eyes the soft light of the library seemed entirely too bright, "Do not move, child. Your body is still adjusting to your awakened blood. You need to be careful."

"Ugh…is it normal for my fingers and gums to itch?" the Russian was surprised at the shear whininess of his own question; when was the last time he was the last time he was ever that childish?

Peng paused for a moment wondering if he should mention the more... obvious changes. "Well... let's just say you should avoid scratching any itches for a while."

The assassin narrowed his eyes, "Give me a diagnostic report." He knew he was being rude but this was his body, not some random object.

Peng sighed, "Claws, extended teeth, improved senses and strength. I would say that until you get used to your limits you refrain from doing anything that could potentially harm you." Not that the child would listen but it was worth a shot.

Yassen sighed, "I want to see Alex."

"Alright. You can see him if you can walk there on your own."

The younger male tried to push himself into a standing position; all he managed to do was sit up and even that left him winded. He turned to glare at the snickering Asian beside him, "You could help."

The dragon managed to get his snickering under control, "Oh no. Last time I tried to help you move about you nearly took my head off. You can get yourself to your _Sashka's_ room on your own."

Yassen loosed a low growl from his throat in annoyance before forcing himself to stand, grasping the nearby chair when he began to fall. The Russian dragged himself from the library and, using the wall for support, made the slow journey to the ex-spy's bedroom.

"Stubborn child... and what do you mean I smell like feet?"

The blue-eyed man laughed when he heard his grandfather's comment; it was incredible that he could hear that even when he was standing just outside the bedroom door, a full hundred meters and several walls away. The assassin walked in only to see his angel withdrawn into himself once more. Not that that would stop him from holding the youth; it just meant that the blonde wouldn't be ready to listen to what Yassen had to say.

He reached out to touch Alex's cheek but paused when he noticed his nails. They weren't much longer than before but they were undoubtedly much sharper. He would need to be careful not to hurt his angel. Turning his fingers in, he brushed the teen's cheek with the back of his hand.

"Alex, _Ангел мой_, wake up. There is so much that needs to be said, dearest _Sashka_; come out of that pretty head of yours for a little while and talk to me," he whispered softly, teasing affection laced in each word.

Alex didn't respond, he couldn't even hear the assassin.

"Care to explain how I am to reach him, Grandfather?" he didn't turn around but simply knew the elder was at the door.

Peng smiled slightly, his grandchild was already adapting to his new strengths, "You will need to reach him in what Sorcerers call a Mind Meld. It would be easier if I helped you."

"Then help," he replied while nuzzling Alex's neck; something in him found the place that joined neck and shoulder on the last Rider utterly fascinating.

Peng rolled his eyes at his grandson's actions; it seems he'd found his affectionate side. "Relax," he ordered as he moved closer.

The assassin immediately obeyed, settling himself more comfortably while drawing his angel into his arms_. He fits perfectly against me; how did I refuse myself the pleasure of touching my _Sashka_ all this time?_ he marveled, keeping one ear on the Chinese man behind him.

The elder placed one hand on Yassen's head and the other on Alex's. He softly began to chant and the ancient words slowly lulled the Russian into a trance. "Relax and let yourself drift; Alex may be withdrawing but he is simultaneously begging for attention. Let him guide you in..." The world warped away from the blue-eyed male and was replaced by a mindscape that almost made him do what he'd prided himself on never doing: retreat.

It was, like his own mind, a cell where a memory played over and over again. There in the middle of the cell's back wall was Alex, chained and forced to watch his torture again and again.

_"You're nothing but a whore, bitch; nothing but MY whore," the memory Snake whispered in memory Alex's ear before brutally whipping him. In the image the ex-spy was hung from meat hooks through the shoulders, a blindfold over his eyes, and an obscenely large butt plug thrust into an already torn and bleeding anus. After long, agonizing minutes the ghostly member of K-Unit changed from a whip to cigarettes and, when he grew bored of burning, he switched to a knife. "No one is coming to get you; no one will save you. Isn't that right, pet? You're not worth enough to ANYONE to merit saving; you're just a dirty slut. SAY IT!" he shouted, backhanding the filth-covered blonde when he wasn't quick enough to answer._

_"N-n-no one is c-c-coming to s-save me. I-I'm not worth a r-r-rescue. I-I'm n-n-n-nothing but a d-d-dirty s-slut..." he whimpered out brokenly._

Yassen turned away from the horror only to look at his beloved _Sashka_ being assaulted by...himself. A phantom Yassen sneered at the shackled teen, "I hate you. I've always hated you; you should have died instead of John. You sniveling piece of shit, why would I ever want someone as worthless as you? You've only ever been a burden, an obligation to a dead man's memory. God, how I hate having to save you. Why won't you die already?" The false image punched the youth in the solar plexus before continuing, "You couldn't manage to commit suicide properly; the mangy mutt pulled you out and barked for help. I had to spend more time, more money, more supplies on a failure. That's all that you are: a failure and a filthy whore. You'd let anyone fuck you, wouldn't you?

"Bet I'd just have to smile to get you to spread your legs; you'd do that in a heartbeat if it meant I'd pay attention to you." He stepped back and loosed a kick to the young man's already pained gut, "You were willing to whore yourself out to MI6 even after Jack's death because it was the only way you felt close to me; you clung onto the hope that I was alive and that I would eventually rescue you from the world of espionage like some knight in shining armor. You can't ever be someone normal because then I wouldn't even notice your existence; can't be anything but a spy or an assassin and you hate both jobs. Boo-hoo, grow a backbone already."

Yassen felt like throwing up, his gut roiled, and a fierce protectiveness burned in him. With murderous intent he took a step towards his phantom self ... only to have an iron-like grip to grab hold of his shoulder, "Do not!" It was Peng.

"Release me old man," the assassin snarled, trying to pull himself free.

"That is nothing but a twisted memory," the Asian murmured softly, keeping his grip tight, "What you need to do is heal his actual self."

"And where would I find that?" the pale man grit out; everything in him at war with the rage and sorrow he felt at Alex Rider's plight.

"I do not know." Peng said simply, "That is for you to find." The dragon made the mistake of loosening his grip slightly and with a roar Yassen launched himself at his false twin. Just as his first blow landed on the side of the others head the entire mindscape dissolved.

"ALEX!" Yassen shouted, "Alex, where are you?" The assassin began to run, the world around him warping and shifting between grotesque memories, each more ghastly than the last. "ALEX!" he shouted once more.

A small, pained whimper drew the assassin to a cold, muddy training field. There was a shooting range to his left, a zip-line to his right and directly in front of him was a viscous victory tower and training course. In the middle of it all was his angel, running laps; every injury he had ever received in the 'line of duty' was fresh and bleeding. His breath was coming in pained gasps even as his legs kept going and going as if he couldn't stop. "Alex..."

"Have to keep going, have to get better. Not worth anything if I'm not the perfect teenage spy. If I'm not a spy I'm no one and I'll lose Yassen again if I'm no one," the blonde repeated the same sentences over and over as if it were a mantra; all the while, tears streamed down his scratched and bruised cheeks.

Yassen could only watch in shock for a moment before he moved forward directly into Alex's well worn path. The teen showed no sign of slowing, as if he was blind, "Alex," Yassen intoned gently as the ex-spy drew closer. "Alex," he repeated before grabbing the blonde about the waist, halting his progress. As soon as the young man's feet left the ground he went wild.

"Put me down! Put me down! I have to be perfect for him to notice; put me down!" he screamed, thrashing and flailing recklessly; sobs tore at his raw throat. "I have to; please, I have to."

"Stop, _Sashka_, stop. I'm right here; I'm noticing you right now. Just look at me, little Alex," the assassin reassured calmly, his new-found heart breaking for the youth.'

Alex's struggles slowly ceased, only to dissolve in tears, "You hate me. You've always hated me."

"No, I've never hated you; not for a single moment in time," he lowered them to the ground and began to rock the browned-eye man. "When you were little, your father would take me to visit you between missions. I used to play with you the entire time I was there; you always smiled and reached for me the second you noticed I was in the house. Those are my happiest memories, _Ангел мой_."

Alex's breaths continued to hitch but he made no move to answer even as his small hands clutched desperately at Yassen's shirt.

"Will you come back with me, little Alex? Kia and Dr. Peng are so very worried about you and I'd like to hold you in my arms back in the real world."

The blonde continued to cling to the assassin but slowly, he nodded. Gently, the Russian slid an arm beneath Alex's knees and lifted him into his arms.

"Let's go home." And Yassen smiled fondly at the young man, at his heart before the mindscape vanished.


	14. Chapter 13

**Author's Note:**

I am soooooooooooooo sorry for not posting yesterday! I was sick and just moved back into my dorm and all kinds of craziness was going on and I'm just really, really, really sorry! I'll make sure to set my phone to alarm to post each Saturday. I'll try to ensure that this doesn't happen again (at least without forewarning).

*Listens to her co-authoress rant* You do realize that this WILL happen again, as it has on our previous stories, when our posting over runs our actual writing right?

**Chapter 13**

Peng waited patiently as his little ones slowly returned to their own minds. Alex began to shudder as his mind reasserted itself; Yassen merely pulled him closer and tucked him firmly beneath his chin.

"Welcome back. Well done, grandson," he peered over the blue-eyed male to speak to the youth, "I am so pleased that you've decided to return to us, little one. We've all been so worried."

Alex didn't respond, instead he pressed himself as close to the assassin as he could get. Yassen opened a single tired eye, in a look telling his grandfather to disappear for a while.

The dragon merely smiled knowingly before leaving the two to the expected conversation

Once he heard the sound of a door closing, the Russian glanced down at the young man and lifted a hand to run through the child's soft hair. "Alex?" He rasped, throat impossibly dry.

"You don't hate me?" the blonde queried, voice meek, eyes clenched shut, and every muscle tense; everything ready for what he believed was a rejection.

"I could never hate you, _angel_ _moy_. Believe that of me. Open your pretty eyes for me, please."

Alex warily looked up at the man he'd fallen for. Yassen gasped at the sight; brown eyes had been replaced by lustrous gold and the killer couldn't help be become entranced. "Yassen?"

Yassen didn't answer, instead leaning closer to the younger man, "Beautiful," he murmured.

"What?" he wasn't beautiful; he was ugly and dirty and covered in scars. The older man must be mistaken because, in Alex's mind, he could never be beautiful.

"You're the most beautiful person I have ever seen." And he was. It must have been an effect of his awakened blood but the hidden colors that normal humans could never hope to see glowed from his angel's skin, hair, eyes...everything. And to the assassin the young man appeared to shine more radiantly than even the most precious of gems.

"That can't be right; I'm not–" the Russian pressed a finger to the blonde's lips.

"You are; I can see it."

Tears gathered at the corners of his glimmering eyes. He buried his head in the other man's chest as he cried, "I love you; please don't throw me away."

The assassin held the younger man close and whispered against his hair, "I promise."

Neither noticed the loup-garou and dragon quietly peeking through the cracked door; the odd pair looked at each other before nodding sharply: They'd done a job well done. They left the couple to sleep off their exhaustion.

The scent of cooking chicken awoke the assassin and caused his stomach to growl in hunger. He couldn't remember when he had last eaten a decent meal. Yassen looked down at the slumbering teen in his arms and smiled softly.

"Angel, time to wake up; it seems Grandfather has prepared dinner. It's only proper that we get out of bed and eat it," his tone was light and teasing as he nuzzled his soon-to-be mate.

Alex murmured unintelligibly until Yassen's words sank in, "Grandfather?" He mumbled against the assassin's muscled chest.

"Yes, apparently I am his several times over great-grandson. He went looking into our lineages to hopefully find out what was wrong with us and found that I was related to him."

"Did he find anything interesting in mine?"

The Russian didn't quite know how to phrase this next part without Peng to explain all the details, "I believe so but the old man downstairs waiting for us can explain it better."

Alex mumbled for a few more seconds before he lifted his head from the assassin's protective embrace and opened his bleary eyes slightly, "M'kay, let's go." Alex sat up slowly, not entirely awake.

Yassen grabbed the boy before he could put any further pressure on his still broken wrist. When the blonde looked at him questioningly, he simply answered, "You won't like it if the doctor has to re-brake your wrist simply so it doesn't heal wrong."

Alex blinked at Yassen for a moment before relenting and settling himself back down on the bed. The Russian chuckled before sweeping the youth into his arms, "How about I just carry you to dinner?"

The teen flailed for a moment, "Wait, wait, put me down! Just use the wheelchair!"

"But then I wouldn't get to hold you; let me take care of you, _Ангел мой_."

Alex paused in his movements at the assassin's words. "But...

"What is the problem you have with someone wanting to carry you about? With someone wanting to pamper you?"

"I'm... just not used to it. I haven't had anyone to care about me since Jack..."

The young dragon nuzzled the teen's forehead – the older male just couldn't resist the chance to touch his mate – and purred slightly, "I understand but I will always be here for you; just let me take care of everything from now on."

Alex froze at the odd gesture and noise; it wasn't like Yassen at all. "Are you sure you're alright? You're acting... oddly."

He chuckled, "Just wait for Dr. Peng to explain; you'll understand, little Alex."

Alex finally settled in the assassin's arms and wrapped his arms about the older man's neck, "Alright."

The remainder of the walk was filled with a comfortable silence and, once they'd entered the small dining room, the elder Asian smiled in greeting. A strange woman sitting on the counter besides the Chinese man immediately put Yassen on guard; the once comfortable silence quickly becoming awkward.

She was almost plainly beautiful: short pale blonde hair, dark blue eyes, long, slender, yet muscular limbs. Yet, the stillness with which she sat seemed unnatural, almost... feral. "Ummmm," the unfamiliar female spoke with an oddly soft voice. "I'm Kia; sorry for not," she gestured to herself, "before. I didn't have anyone or anything left and didn't want to lose my only home."

Yassen continued to stare at her in silence.

"Please don't hate me," she whimpered out, lowering head in fear as much as submission.

Peng noticed the tension in the room and calmly walked between the loup-garou and the assassin, effectively distracting them both. "Yassen," the dragon said lightly, "perhaps you should set Alex in a chair before you drop him in your shock."

The Russian nodded before gently placing the teen in a chair and signaling for the human-looking Kia to follow him into another room.

Kia ducked her head and followed silently; acting for all the world like a kicked cub trotting after her father with her tail firmly lodged between her legs.

The assassin calmly closed and locked the door behind them before softly asking, "Why have you lied to be for all these years?"

Kia approached tentatively, making sure her posture read 'not a threat' and praying her Alpha wouldn't just shoot her on principle. "I didn't want to. I had to. Pack law says that vanilla humans can't know what we are. But you're not just a human now. So...I could show you."

"There's more than what you're saying."

The she-wolf fidgeted nervously, unsure whether she should speak what she had as of yet to confirm. "Peng thinks we're related," she finally blurted in a rush.

The blue-eyed man simply raised an eyebrow.

Kia whimpered plaintively, "I don't know for sure if he speaks true but... it would be nice if we were."

"Explain," Yassen didn't much more in the way of words to convey the demand.

"I don't know if I can. I haven't seen the scrolls myself, but the dragon said that we share a grandmama. Noroi Lunascurtare is what her human name would have been."

"Mmmmmm." He'd need to think about this and the old man was definitely going to show him those scrolls. "I won't throw you out but I expect no more lies – implicit, direct, or by omission from you ever again. Should you EVER lie to me again, Kia, I will not throw you out; I will simply kill you. Am I clear?" the assassin's voice was cold and all but dared her to broke an argument.

Kia lowered her head submissively, he was acting more and more like an Alpha every day.

He turned from her and walked towards the door before pausing, "Before I forget to ask, is Kia your actual name?"

The loup-garou winced, she hated her name, but the Alpha wanted an answer so..."Yessenia Lacramioara Lunascurtare...and don't you dare laugh!"

"How did someone derive 'Kia' from your name?" He was actually having trouble not laughing; if he weren't so used to not showing emotion he'd be holding his sides and rolling on the floor. The feminine version of his name belonged to his first cousin; how ridiculous was that?

"I think it was a play on the word 'crima' which is Romanian for 'murder'. I, ah, used to enjoy killing field mice when I was really small."

The older male chuckled before replying with, "Come, dinner is getting cold."

Kia's mood perked up instantly. Yassen wasn't going to kill her!

When the two reentered the dining room without sporting any bloodshed, Alex and Peng gave sighs of relief; Alex because he'd always liked Kia and Peng because he'd rather not deal with the aftermath of his grandson killing someone he cared for. "I was starting to think I should have gone in after you two just to make sure you didn't murder each other; glad to see I didn't have to," the young blond half-teased.

Yassen smirked slightly and ruffled Alex's hair playfully before taking his place at the table. It was a simple meal of baked rosemary chicken, wilted spinach, and steamed white rice. It took a few moments for the feeling of peace to sink into the youngest there but, when it finally did, silent tears began to trail down his cheeks.

The younger dragon was quick to react and knelt beside the youth, cupping his cheeks to wipe away the tears, "What's wrong, _Ангел мой_?"

Alex's silence broke down into gut wrenching sobs as he sank into the assassins arms. "It's just...everything's happening too fast."

"What is, little one? You need to explain so we can understand," the calm, steady voice came from the older dragon this time; the doctor always ready to treat a patient.

Yassen held the boy close and hummed gently, trying to calm him down. Alex turned suddenly and tackled Yassen to the floor. With a feral grin and glowing gold eyes he captured the assassin's mouth in a hungry kiss; completely ignoring the other two at the table; he had what he wanted. Yassen jerked in shock, before relaxing and dominating the kiss. Without a second thought he rolled Alex beneath him and growled low in his throat as he nipped at the teen's plump lips. Alex moaned as he arched into the larger body above him, entwining his fingers in Russian's short hair to pull him down for another kiss.

Yassen responded readily only to feel an almost dainty foot collide with his side. "Stop!" Peng's shout broke through the assassin's lust fogged brain if only to incite a possessive growl from his grandson.

"Don't you growl at me!" The elder dragon snarled, before turning to Alex, who had remained sprawled on the floor, fury in his eyes, "Child, I have little patience for your wish to harm yourself further! Stop before you take my grandson with you to torment!"

The younger blonde curled into a fetal position before crying, "But this is all I'm good for." He clenched his broken left wrist tightly with his right, trying to cause the mind-numbing pain that would make his head clear, "This is all I'm good; this is the only reason anyone would want me and I have to earn my keep. I've been free-loading the entire time..." The doctor had to hold his grandson against him to keep him from jumping the teen in his addled half-lust fogged brain; the other half of the blue-eyed man's mind was fighting to get to Alex if only to tell him how wrong he was but it wasn't as strong as the large part of him that wanted to shag his mate.

Finally, left with no other option Peng struck a sharp blow to the side of Yassen's head knocking him off balance and distracting him long enough for Peng to stoop down and lift the teen into his thin, powerful arms. "Kia," the she-wolf snapped to attention at the sharp tone in the dragon's voice, "keep Yassen away from Alex for a while. The boy and I need to talk." There was no warmth in the old man's voice.

The elder stepped quickly towards Alex's bedroom before closing and locking the door behind. After settling the youth on the bed he asked, "Start explaining, now." The blonde felt his skin crawl at the tone and whimpered pathetically; he'd screwed up big time. The dragon had to hate him after his actions and he'd probably convince Yassen to kick the teen out; Alex wasn't worth anything and all he did was cause problems and waste money. He squeezed his broken wrist again; he'd do almost anything for the pain that would deaden his thoughts.

The dark-eyed man frowned at the teen and with a gentleness that was not reflected in his expression pried the ex-spy's hand from the injured appendage and quietly tucked both arms beneath the covers. With sharp practiced motions he tucked the blonde beneath the blankets and sheets in such a way that he would be unable to bring his arms together without alerting the old dragon. When he was finished he pulled up the same wooden chair that Yassen normally occupied and, with his angered expression still in place just stared at Alex.

"He's being so nice and not-Yassen. He was always so cold and threatening and he liked causing me pain; then he was just so nice and the only time people are nice is when they want something." Gold eyes stared desperately up at the dragon, begging him to understand, "I only have this dirty body to offer; he's physically attracted to me and I'm a whore. Whores earn their keep by spreading their legs; he's been so kind when he's always been so cruel and I have to earn my place here.

"I'll leave; just let me get up and I'll leave. I-I have to leave; I made you hate me and Yassen will want me gone. You're worth more; he'll keep you and get rid of me since you hate me now."

Peng's frowned intensified as he listened to the boy babble. "I don't hate you," he stated simply as he picked a pitcher and glass from Alex's bedside table and poured the boy something to drink. Once he was satisfied that Alex had had enough he continued calmly, "I can assure you that Yassen is madly in love with you, little one. The truth of the matter is that he is much more likely to throw me out – his own grandfather – than you, little Alex."

The blonde shook his head violently enough that the old doctor was almost afraid the youth would give himself a concussion. "I'm not worth anything; he can't love me. No one loves me; no one can **EVER** love me," he was sobbing horrendously; his cries heartbreaking to even the coldest of killers.

Peng reached out and laid a gentle hand on Alex's forehead, "He does, and you are, child. Some day you will see that." Slowly, quietly the old dragon began to hum an old Chinese hymn, soothing the distraught teen to sleep. He felt his age again for what had to be the hundredth time since Yassen had first called him here to fix Alex's broken wrist. He wandered back to the dining room only to see the loup-garou cowering in the corner with a mangled arm while silent tears ran down her face and his grandson nowhere in sight.

Peng rushed to her side, "Kia, what happened?" He reached out carefully, trying to get a better look at the she-wolf's arm.

"H-he was mad," she hiccupped, "I wouldn't let him up so he hit my arm and it broke. I didn't see where he went."

"Define 'mad'." The doctor looked over and hissed in anger; the idiot child was cruel to break the girl's arm at her elbow and her shoulder. The bones would take months to heal even with her superior healing capabilities and she'd be lucky if they ever functioned properly again.

"It was as if he couldn't think strai– no, he wasn't sane at all." She shivered at the memory.

"I need to a better elaboration: Was he saying anything or able to recognize you at all?" This was very, very bad; a 10.0 on the Richter's Scale would have been a better scenario.

"No, he just went mad. When I tried to stop him from getting off the floor he just broke my arm and ran off."

_Correction_, he thought, _a nuclear holocaust would be better than this. A rage like this should be impossible for him to achieve even with his mate so near..._ The dragon's eyes widened as a terrifying thought struck him: Alex was in heat.


	15. Chapter 14

**Author's Note:**

Hey all, not much to say this chapter except: My birthday is on Monday! Yay, a whole year older! Yay! Cookies for all my lovely readers! *skips off to cause mayhem in the name of birthday celebrations*

Oh yeah, we need help with small squadron fortress infiltration tactics. Anyone with knowledge of battles that involved the above please PM me and HELP!

Well, in this chapter we finally bring in a slightly larger cast. Now I know there are a lot of people out there who don't like Crawley for whatever reason but I always have so you get the _good_ version of him. *glances at co-writer and shakes head* And I put up with you WHY?

**Chapter 14**

Yassen glared at the tall building opposite him. It had been nearly a week since he had left his precious angel in his grandfather's capable hands. His rage had mellowed some since reaching London but he could still feel it lurking just below the surface; just enough made it through to keep him to his task but not enough to overwhelm into irrationally lashing out at whoever had the misfortune to be near him. Currently he was waiting for two o'clock when the man in charge of the building he was watching would leave his fortress to walk to a coffee shop across the street. That was when Yassen planned to take the man who had ruined his mate's life and kill him.

An arm grabbed him and it took all his control not to just snap the appendage off. "The old dragon says not to kill Blunt just yet; he said that some questions need to be answered before you take his life. He's not forbidding you just asking that you capture him for interrogation before you kill him in whatever fashion you deem appropriate. There are some...odd things about Alex's life that don't make any sense and Dr. Peng wants to ask the man who's been pulling Alex's strings for a good portion of his life," Kia was trembling even as she spoke the final words; her Alpha had hurt her and the mangled arm was still in a cast and bound to her chest.

She was aware of herself enough to admit that she was afraid that assassin would hurt her again; she'd left her last pack because the Alpha who'd defeated her father in mortal combat had tried to force-mate the she-wolf and had broken her arm in a similar fashion. The loup-garou knew that the Russian would never try to rape her like her old Alpha had but that didn't leave her any less terrified of her cousin.

Instead of attacking the one who had interrupted his concentration, Yassen's eyes cleared for a moment in recognition of who she was, but it was faint and fleeting. Within seconds his attention was once again on the Royal and General Bank, "Message received," he growled.

She trembled even as she spoke the words that she knew would get cause the younger dragon to injure her again, "He said I'm to stay with you until you return to Romania." She bowed her head and closed her eyes, preparing for the expected attack.

The assassin didn't move. His attention had focused like a laser, it was almost two. "Don't get in my way." Was all he said before he shot towards the fire escape at high speed at the same time Alan Blunt walked out of the front doors of his building, unaware that it would be the last time he would ever see it.

They'd managed to get out of the country without notice and Alan Blunt still unconscious but the closer they grew towards Romania, the more agitated the dragon became. She was thanking the Moon Goddess every few hours that Peng was supposed to meet them at the outskirts of a Hungarian-Romanian border town. She hated being so fearful of her Alpha...

When they finally met up with the elder, Yassen looked about ready to take someone's head off. He paced restlessly as he waited for the old man to finish examining and binding the MI6 agent. Finally, everything was ready and the Brit was starting to rouse.

"What do you want?" was the only question Alan Blunt asked when he saw the ex-SCORPIA member standing before him.

Peng answered from just out of the man's sight, "I would like to know about Alex Rider."

"He's dead; there's nothing else anyone needs to know." Yassen snarled and moved towards the older man only to be stopped by a sharp reprimand from Peng. But it had been enough for Blunt to see the thin veil of control that Yassen was hardly even trying to hold onto, and it frightened him. "What specifically do you want to know?" The agent was smart enough to pick his battles and Alex was already dead; what harm was there in telling them about a dead agent?

"Why did you turn him into an agent at such a young age? Did it not occur to you the possible damage he could receive?"

"It had been planned for him to become a spy at that age since his parents' deaths. Ian's assassination only stepped up our timetable by a few months; Alex was supposed to have **wanted** to work for us under Ian's guidance but," he shrugged his shoulders as best he could while bound, "unforeseen events do happen."

Yassen whirled on the man with a growl that rumbled through his body to the point where Blunt could feel it through the grip the assassin had on his throat. "YASSEN!" Peng shouted. When that did nothing and the younger man continued to choke the grey man, the dragon was forced to physically separate the two. Yassen did not go willingly but Peng finally forced him out of the room.

The old man turned towards the Brit, "You may wish to more carefully choose your words in the future of this conversation. Now, you're going to tell me everything about John Rider, Ian Rider, and Alex Rider."

Blunt coughed harshly and dragged rough breaths back into his lungs. "I refuse. Kill me if you wish. But there is nothing you'll be able to drag out of me."

Peng sighed as he calmly pulled a rolling metal table into view; on it laid implements of pain neatly set out in order of use. The Asian was perfectly polite as tortured the grey man at every refusal of cooperation. First he started with a pair of tweezers to slowly remove Blunt's fingernails and, when that did not illicit the desired information, moved onto a scalpel to slice the revealed nail beds. By the time the dragon had moved through each of his tools the agent was a gasping mess of pain; bleeding and with only a few bones not broken, the Brit finally began to talk.

"We recruited Ian and John when they were in their early twenties, they were good, but we chose John to infiltrate SCORPIA and spy for us. We did not take into account that he might switch sides. So we ordered Ian to kill him." Alan took a pained breath, and examined Peng's expression: Still cold, a mask that hid a raging fire. "He succeeded. However, Helen Rider tried to go to Julia Rothman for help and protection. We had Ian drive them to the airport and shoot her before taking Alex to rear as a teen spy." Alan dissolved in harsh coughs, blood beginning to drip from his lips before continuing, "Yassen killing him made things a little more difficult; Alexander didn't want to work for the agency that had created the circumstances leading to his uncle's death – not that he realized everything was set up from when he was infant. MI6 blackmailed him by threatening to have his nanny, Jack Starbright, deported to America if he failed to cooperate. We didn't count on Miss Starbright finding a sympathetic judge when she sued for custody of Alex; we arranged for her removal to stop the proceedings. You already know we killed the boy when he outlived his usefulness."

Peng listened to his diatribe silently. When he was finished, the elder smiled softly before picking up a remote and turning on a flat-screen monitor that had until this moment been dark. Alex, sitting in bed, reading another of the Russian historical fictions as Kia snored at the foot of the bed, in wolf form once more was shown. "You failed, Blunt. Alex survived."

"That's not possible," he gasped out.

"It is. Yassen found him and brought the boy here."

The man laughed hysterically, "One dead man saving another." He laughed until he began violently coughing blood once more, "But it doesn't matter; once MI6 discovers me missing they'll assume I was taken against my will. They'll see Yassen on the CCTV system and hunt him down; when they find all of you they'll make sure Alex and he die. You've signed your own death warrants." The madman descended into his malicious hysteria once more.

Peng smiled cruelly, "You honestly think I would have left that sort of thing to chance? The cameras surrounding you building were put in a time-loop. No-one knows who took you. You will die here, without a single person knowing where you are."

"They'll still search until they find out what happened. When they don't find a body–" the dragon cut him off.

"They will find your body; well, what's left of it anyway. Now," he paused, stepping over to the door to allow his grandson in, "Yassen is the one who decides how you die. Good-bye, may you enjoy the Third Round of Hell's Ninth Circle." And he walked out of the room, closing the door on Alan Blunt's agonized screams.

Two days later Alan Blunt's body was found suspended upside-down from the flagpole outside the Royal and General bank, eviscerated and headless. MI6 was in a panic but descended into a state similar to a kicked anthill when a package arrived only days after with the former leader's head and a note:

_A corrupt man murdered a child's parents to manipulate his life into that of teen spy. Here is the head of that monster; may his soul suffer eternally in Hell._

_A dragon never forgets and he certainly never forgives._

It was written in the agent's own blood before being signed at the bottom with a Chinese_ Lóng_ circling a white moon and gold eye. Mrs. Jones sighed as she read over the letter for the third time; something was...off about the whole display and she couldn't figure out what it was. The fact that someone had been able to not only capture, but murder the head of MI6 was, in itself, a frightening reality. But then the body was returned, put out on display for all the world to see. There was something almost... personal about how he had been slaughtered.

But who hated Mr. Blunt enough – for there were those in the world who severely disliked the deceased but not enough to do something as heinous as this – to not only kill him but make it personal? Then there was the torture aspect; the medical examiner was able to determine that he was torture perimortem but for what purpose? If it was information then would his death have been quick after he'd given up whatever knowledge they'd desired – Mrs. Jones wasn't naive enough to not believe her dead boss had broken down in the end; whoever had been his interrogator was a master at their craft. So was it not for information? If it was just sadism for pleasure it wouldn't have been so methodical; there was too much precision in each cut, burn, and broken bone for it to simply be for fun.

It had set a stone of fear in her stomach. She could only imagine what had caused this and none of what she pictured was comforting. Her concentration was broken when four SAS men were lead into her office. "You asked to see us, Mrs. Jones?" Their leader, a large black-haired man, spoke calmly.

"Yes," she replied, "you've already heard about Alan Blunt's death. Your job is to work in tandem with Mr. Crawley to seek out and apprehend the killer. I'm counting on K-Unit to succeed."

The men saluted her smartly, "Yes, ma'am," the team shouted in unison before trooping out of the room to finish being briefed in the tactical room in the basement. Mr. Crawley met them in-route and, upon reaching the room, began briefing them on Blunt's most recent decisions. He was just finishing the explanation as to why Alexander Rider was 'retired' when an outburst from Wolf stopped him, "What the hell do you mean they 'retired' Cub?"

Crawley paused before he continued in the same bland, monotone as before, "He had reached the end of his usefulness and he needed to be removed from duty."

Fox put his hand on Wolf's arm before he could lash out, "Define 'removed from duty' and use as little bullshit as possible."

The old agent thought for a moment, "Mr. Blunt shot him with the intent to kill him."

K-Unit froze: Alex, dead? What was Blunt thinking in killing MI6's best agent? It was Wolf who broke the silence; collapsing into his seat, he could only ask one question, "Why?"

Crawley sighed slightly, in truth he had been horrified when he'd heard what Alan had done, but the agent had been with MI6 for almost four decades, it wasn't his place to question. "I was not privy to the reasoning behind the decision."

"It was probably that decision that put a target on his back," Eagle's statement was barely above a whisper but it was deafening to everyone seated at the table.

"Explain," was Crawley's curt demand.

"Everyone but a handful of 'villains'," he made the finger movements for quotes, "loved the kid. Even SCORPIA liked him; if it got out – and it probably did, MI6 doesn't have the best security – that Blunt killed him, everyone who'd ever met Alex and liked him would be after his head."

Crawley nodded slightly in understanding. It made sense, as much as he didn't want to admit it, the boy had a way of causing people to care about him. "Nevertheless we are servants to the Crown and we will do as we have been ordered."

K-Unit reluctantly set to work dissecting the man known as Alan Blunt, focusing their investigation on the agent's last act: Killing Alex Rider. If any clue was to be found it would be in who cared enough about the blonde and was skilled enough to kill in this manner. But one thing bothered the five in particular as it had bothered Mrs. Jones: What information was head of MI6 tortured for that was related to the dead teen-spy? They searched through the profiles of everyone Alex Rider had come across for hours when Fox let out a low whistle.

"What is it?" Wolf asked.

"Yassen Gregorovich."

"He's dead."

"Yeah, but he fits best: Was partnered with John Rider during the SCORPIA op; saved Cub's life at least a half dozen times; would be skilled enough to torture in this method and then personalize the kill. He'd care about Alex enough to exact this sort of revenge."

"But he's dead," Wolf repeated with more emphasis.

"Not necessarily," Snake replied. Everyone turned towards to the previously silent man. "Think about it; what better way to cut ties with everyone and go freelance than to fake your death? It'd be the perfect cover, the perfect escape and since when has Gregorovich been anything but perfectly meticulous?"

"And," Fox added, getting into the spirit of things, "when Alex was rescued from Air Force One Gregorovich's blood was found at the scene, a lot of his blood, but no body. It was assumed he'd gone the same way as Cray...but what if he hadn't?"

"It would be best if we focused on actual possibilities instead of ghosts." Crawley's bland voice interrupted the soldiers chattering.

"You're the one who said that we should look at every possibility. And this guy fits the bill to a tee." Snake stated calmly even as he placed Yassen's folder down to pick up another.

Crawley pinched the bridge of his nose; they were right but the odds of Gregorovich being alive after a bullet – a large caliber bullet – to the chest were so slim...They were so slim that it would be the perfect way to disappear. "Change of plans: Focus on Yassen Gregorovich. It's too much of coincidence to be anyone but him. Now, where would he be?"

Wolf picked up the discarded folder and flipped through the pages quickly. "It says that he has a couple of old properties in Russia, Germany, and a yacht by the name of the _Fer de Lance_. It's possible for him to be at any of them. Or none of them," he added idly, "he could be hiding at an associates place."

"Those are his known properties," Eagle pointed out. "He's not going to use those; SCORPIA would check them and so would MI6. He probably has several that aren't known to either us or them. Which means we actually have to do real work: Anagrams and known pseudonyms are our best bet in finding any unknown houses."

"Why not use an associate's?" Crawley asked; he had to ask even if it was a stupid question.

Fox scrunched his face, "SCORPIA would know he's alive and hunt him to the ends of the Earth if he used those. No one is that loyal to an assassin; there isn't a person alive who would risk SCORPIA's wrath just to keep one man alive."

"What about family?" Wolf asked, "If he had any then they would be more than willing to keep him hidden. That's what family does."

"He doesn't have any," Crawley pointed out. "His parents were killed when he was fourteen; neither had siblings and all grandparents are dead. He was an only child, too, so no brothers or sisters to hideout with."

Wolf scratched the back of his head, "Something just doesn't seem right about that."

"Why?" Fox asked curiously.

"It's too neat for one. It's all perfectly recorded and noted that he has family; not even people from old clans can keep track of births and deaths that...perfectly. I'm thinking there are some relatives alive; I'll bet five hundred quid he has at least a grandparent alive and probably and aunt or uncle." Wolf's face was serious about that thought.

"I'll take that bet!" Fox cried jokingly even as he started laughing.

Crawley shook his head slowly, "Gentlemen please focus." But it was a waste of breath. K-unit had been spurred into a playful argument. "Fine, I'll join the bet too but we need to get back to work." _If you can't beat them, join them_, he thought.

Peng had been worried about his grandson for the last week, the Russian had been restless. Pacing back and forth across the open spaces of the house like a caged predator. The Chinese man would have taken him into the woods and worked him to exhaustion if he didn't have Alex to worry about. Alex himself was worrying; he wasn't withdrawing into himself as that coping mechanism had been removed from his list of options but the new method was more dangerous. The Asian had found out thanks to Yassen's illegal access to MI6's files that teen's eighteenth birthday had also when he'd tried to completely crawl into himself had turned to self harm. He re-broken his wrist and the doctor was sure that if last Rider was completely human it would never heal right and Peng had taken to checking the young man's arms and legs every morning for new cuts. There were always more than the previous check but the elder couldn't find the weapon the blonde was using and it was maddening.

The ex-spy hadn't tried to seduce his grandson since but it was obvious he still felt it to be the only way he could earn his room and board. The elder dragon had forbidden the Russian from having sex with his mate and it was only making the tension in the household worse. He suspected Kia had some idea of what was going on with the youngest member of the household but she was still too terrified of angering her Alpha to say anything and spent most of her time in wolf form curled up beside Alex.

Peng knew that it was still only the quiet before the storm and the old dragon prayed that it never developed into the horror of the previous couple of weeks. There was little he could do for Alex except try, time and again, to convince the Brit that he was worth something. It still hadn't sunken in. Even as the days passed with no further incidents of the violent kind, things within the manor were degrading. Because of Yassen's temper, Kia had been up in arms defending Alex from imagined enemies. She had already nipped Peng's hands to the point that he was forced to wear thick gloves to keep his skin from being torn.

A week passed and the tension grew worse still; Alex had stopped eating altogether and his grandson had taken to working himself to exhaustion in the fitness room. It seemed he'd taken his grandfather's command of 'no sex with Alex' as 'don't go near the teen at all' and two weren't fairing well. Finally, the bubble burst that evening. The four had retired to the study after dinner and when the Russian had approached the sleeping blonde to carry him to his room, Kia snapped and bit his hand. She wouldn't let go and only further tried to tear off the limb; the assassin's response had been more explosive than Peng had imagined.

The younger dragon froze for a split second before breaking the beta's jaw with a visceral snarl. That single action had broken the last strand of sanity that had been keeping him under control. With a roar he lifted Kia by the throat and threw her into the study's plaster wall, leaving behind a dent when she slid to the floor in a heap. Before the elder could stop Yassen, the assassin gathered his mate into his arms and disappeared into the shadows of the large manor, silent as a ghost. The Asian had to make a split second decision to either chase after his enraged grandson or see to the she-wolf. It wasn't that hard to make once he reminded himself that the only one in immediate danger of death was the wolf; the dragon rushed over to her aid and prayed to the gods that nothing would happen to Alex that would cause the blue-eyed male to hate himself later.


	16. Chapter 15

**Author's Note:**

I must thank you all for your wonderful reviews and birthday wishes. It made turning a year older that much sweeter. Anyway, this story is 127 pages long at this point in time – and it's still nowhere near done; moreover, a sequel has been planned and there are currently three side stories ranging from five to nine pages in length with more half-planned. Yeah, we're still not sure how we're getting our college work done.

On another note, we have an issue that has us stuck around chapter twenty-seven: We're not warmongers. By that, I mean, we need to plan a small-squad fortress incursion and have absolutely no idea how to do that. Anyone who knows a website or book with those kinds of tactics please PM me; otherwise you all may end up with one hell of a cliffhanger at chapter twenty-six.

Yeah, I'm amazed we haven't been failing all our classes as is but it is fun. However, we really do need that suggestion for the warmongering and strategy making. HELP!

**Chapter 15**

Once Kia was tended to and settled in one of the spare bedrooms Peng started to search every nook and cranny of the old home. He kept at it for nearly two hours before he reached Alex's room and noticed a soft glow from beneath the door. Opening it slowly he found a heartwarming sight. Yassen lay curled around the youth atop the blankets with both fully clothed and fast asleep. The blonde was nestled comfortably within the Russian's arms, a small smile gracing his face for the first time in weeks. The younger dragon had buried his face in his mate's hair and a low purr could be heard as he nuzzled the male. Peng snorted softly; sometimes he really didn't understand the two youths he was watching. They could drive each other to insanity, literally, and within minutes be calm enough to lay together in quiet, restful slumber.

He walked to the closet and pulled out a light blanket before gently laying it over the pair. All but tip-toeing out of the room, the elder leaned against the closed door; things were going to get much worse if tonight's incident was any indication. The she-wolf was likely never to fully trust her Alpha to take care of her again and would probably not leave her animal form even when her wounds healed. He was a dragon and like the loup-garou had accused of what seemed an eternity ago, he'd lived long enough to let time take its course: Family came and went; he never fret over such things when he was younger. Most _lóng_ were loners; never staying in family units for longer than necessary. But he understood that for all breeds of werewolf – not just the loup-garou – pack was everything and to be unable to trust an Alpha to care and protect said pack was worse than even death. The she-wolf would be driven to madness if he couldn't find a way to fix the situation.

However there was nothing he could do tonight. With a heavy sigh the old man made his way carefully back to his own room and settled down to meditate. Perhaps some sort of solution would come to him in a dream. He stiffened: Who did Yassen trust above all others? Who would he immediately believe anything from but John Rider? The grin slithered across his face; it was time to drag John Rider back from the grave for a second time. He'd decide later if he should drag Ian from Hell while he was at it. His mind at ease, the dragon climbed into bed; the ghosts could wait until the morn.

The sun did not shine the next morning; a bank of steel grey clouds that promised either rain or snow hid the golden orb from sight. It was the perfect morning for summoning spirits. "Yassen," he called after knocking on Alex's bedroom door, "please bring _Sashka_ to the downstairs living room." When he reached the stated room himself he found Kia already backed into a corner; he doubted even her favored blonde would get the she-wolf to move. Her injuries were almost healed even after only a night but she was still so skittish. He stopped in front of the loup-garou and kneeled down. "You know he's not in his right mind; he would never hurt you like this if he were cognizant of his actions," the dragon explained softly, gently petting her head. "Don't lose faith in your Alpha so soon; once everything isn't in such a flux he won't be like this and you won't have to be so afraid. Just don't give up yet; there is still a pack here. Now, why don't take your human form, Yessenia?" Since the old man had learned her full name he'd refused to use anything other than her first name or 'cub'. Not that she minded all that much, unless it was used teasingly, but at the mention of her pack-mate's mental status she whimpered. Yassen may not be aware of his actions but she certainly was.

When the sound of the assassin making his way down the stairs reached Peng's ears he smiled tiredly. The circles had already been drawn, now all he needed was Yassen to listen to what his old mentor said. The dragon hoped this would work better than simply forbidding the mates to be apart from each other, it might even help little Alex heal slightly.

"Change to human form; you can stay next to me and even at his most feral, your Alpha knows that challenging me is a fool's errand." He leveled a commanding glare at her and Kia complied. The shift was never painful but it did aggravate her fractured jaw something fierce. Where a wolf had stood, a petite young blonde now kneeled. Peng smiled at his granddaughter; a second look at the scrolls proved he had two grandchildren remaining and he'd become as protective of the she-wolf as he was of his grandson. The Asian guided her to the sofa and sat beside just as the Russian carrying the youngest member of the household walked in; he didn't spare a glance at either of them before settling in a chair with the blonde Brit nestled in his lap.

Alex was still slumbering quietly in the assassin's arms, still oblivious to the world around him. Yassen held him close, protectively laying his chin on the teen's head, waiting patiently as he stared intently at Peng. "It may sound more farfetched than dragons or werewolves but it is possible to summon the dead for a time." The younger _lóng_ perked at this; the old man couldn't be thinking of... "Since you seem incapable of hearing me, I have no choice but to summon someone you will hear. You weren't imagining things that night; I did call John and Ian Rider back from the dead if only to understand what was and, it seems, still is wrong with you." Apparently done with words, the elder extended his power towards the circles and dragged the two spirits back from the grave – he decided upon waking that he'd summon them both.

When John opened his eyes and saw, not the peaceful heaven he had been expecting but a familiar old man perched on the edge of a sofa he nearly screamed. Instead he took a quick second to glance at the rest of the room... and froze when his eyes lit upon Yassen holding a boy that looked exactly like he had always imagined his son to look.

"Yassen, is that my son?" he whispered.

The Russian was torn between answering his mentor and snarling at the man who dared to presume that Alex belonged to anyone but the assassin.

Peng answered in his stead, "Yes, John, it is." the dead spy fell to his knees and let out a shaky breath.

"It is..." His voice was rough with emotion and unshed tears.

"Alex," he called, "Alex, will you please talk to me." This time the younger dragon did growl only for his grandfather to snarl back at him when Kia had buried her head into his side. She was always afraid of her Alpha now. The blond stirred and looked towards the circles holding his father and uncle – his silenced by Peng's spell. "What's going on?" he queried sleepily.

The owner of the arms holding him nuzzled his hair before responding, "The old man summoned your father and uncle for a question and answer session. John wants you to talk to him." Everyone in the room could hear the effort it took Yassen to clear his mind long enough to string together that simple sentence.

Alex's bleary eyes focused on his father's teary-eyed form and blinked, "Dad?"

"Yeah, little one, it's been a while since I've seen you." At the elder Rider's response Alex began to thrash; he had to get away. His father shouldn't have to see his son be such a disgrace; he was a whore and John Rider had to be expecting something better than that.

The second his mate's flails began Yassen reacted; he wrapped his arms tightly around Alex, pinning the young man's arm to his sides, and held the teen close to his body. "Easy, _Ангел мой_, easy." The assassin's low voice quickly soothed Alex's panicked movements.

"Um, what's going on?" Why was his son responding to him like that?

"He has been having some... trouble realizing that there are those who truly care for him." Peng's calm voice nearly broke the dead man's heart.

"Alex?" His son wouldn't look at him and had raised his hands to cover his ears.

_Mustn't let him see how dirty I am; mustn't let him know I'm nothing but a whore_, the youth thought. God, how much he longed for the razorblade he'd hidden; he needed pain right now but the doctor would take his release away if he tried here...maybe he could just reopen some of the old wounds instead? That would cause pain and it would be hard for even Yassen to stop him from scratching open some of the places he'd cut.

_Alex_ ,Yassen's voice echoed through his mind, startling him, _uncover your ears and listen to your father. He needs you._ His mate's order forced the teen to lower his hands and look, terrified, at his dead father.

"Alex, my son, what is wrong?" _Ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgod, he noticed_, was all the living Rider could think; his thoughts were thrown into chaos once more as he scrambled to tear open as many old cuts as he could before someone could stop him.

He had only succeeded in partially tearing one before Yassen grabbed hold of both his hands in one of the Russian's larger ones. "Calm your mind, _Ангел мой_, he means you no harm, no shame. Calm down."

The assassin nuzzled his mate again when Alex gave him a pleading, desperate look; couldn't his angel understand that no one was here to hurt him? That he was dearly loved by most in the room? _Please_, he heard his mate mind-speak, _please just let me just make one of them bleed. I need the pain to think and none of you will let me leave or die. Please, Yassen, I beg of you..._

_No_, the assassin responded in kind, _I refuse to let you hurt yourself. You must learn that this is what the world is and that you must accept it_. Yassen squeezed the teen's captured hands gently, comfortingly.

"Ahhhhhhh!" the blond screamed out; the assassin had inadvertently done as he wished and squeezed a hair too tightly on his broken wrist. The younger dragon's eyes widened before he growled lowly; he manhandled the boy into a position where he could both restrain and not harm him while simultaneously forcing Alex to face forward. When the Brit realized what his mate had done he began to flail again. Why couldn't they just let him die already?

"Alex," John begged, pressing his hands against the edges of the binding circle.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorry..." he kept repeating his apologies over and over again; apologizing for not being a good son, a good agent, for not being anything but the whore he perceived himself to be.

"Oh, Alex..." His only child's pain tore at his heart. SCORPIA's Hunter turned to the old man again, "Please, tell me everything." And Dr. Li Peng did; he started with what he'd learned from Blunt's interrogation, then moved on to MI6's mission reports and Alex's last mission where he was raped and tortured, on through Alan Blunt 'retiring' the youth, and ending with all that had happened since Yassen had rescued the last living Rider from death. By the end of the tale John was numb. He had shed more tears on his son's behalf than for himself. His child, his precious baby boy, had been through a hell worse than death. "What can I do?" John stood tall; the Hunter was prepared for whatever mission laid ahead.

"Talk to him. Convince him that you do not care that he has been damaged, that you love him regardless."

"Is there any way I can hold him?"

"Perhaps...I'll move your brother to another room and let Yassen at him and modify the circle to allow you and Alex to have physical contact." It took only a few moments for the dragon to finish.

When John moved forward, reaching out a hand to touch his son, he hesitated.

"I'm sorry," the youth whimpered; he was such a screw up.

"No," the father shook his head slightly, "You have nothing to apologize for. You're my son, and I could never think you any less than perfect."

"M'not perfect, Daddy; I'm just a whore. A filthy whore who's not worth a quid." He didn't think anyone would be able to get to him fast enough to stop him from picking at least one cut bloody.

John moved fast, almost as fast as an injured Yassen, and wrapped his arms around his son, pulling him close and burying his face in his child's hair. "You're not, you're not; you're worth more than the world. Please, believe me." The dead man began rocking his boy back and forth gently, like he had when Alex had been small.

"I'm sorry, Daddy. I'm so sorry..." And everything that had ever plagued Alexander Rider rushed out only to be swept up by a loving father.

In the other room, the Russian was left in the circle with Ian and was enjoying making the Rider pay for all sins he'd committed. The assassin's hatred of the other man rivaled even the most sadistic of demon's play. What the younger dragon didn't notice was his cousin and grandfather watching; the she-wolf had clamped her hands in his shirt and hidden her face in his chest when she'd felt her knees go weak in fear. Her Alpha scared her and she hated it because she had always loved Yassen like an elder brother before...everything was so confusing and terrifying now. When Yassen had worn himself out he stood over the crumpled body panting, a cruel grin twisting his face into a nightmarish vision.

"Do you feel better now, Grandson?" Peng's voice was cold and a tone of disapproval tainted his words. The blue-eyed male turned only to see Kia shaking; her face had dark bruises all along her chin and cheek as a reminder of the previously broken jaw while what he could see of her back was one massive stretch of near-black. "Do you see how terrified she is? Your anger and rage over what has been done to the little one has allowed you to lash out at your cousin and pack-mate. In the past two weeks you've broken her arm at the elbow and shoulder, cracked eight of her ribs, shattered the right side of her jaw, fractured six of her vertebrae, and made her absolutely afraid of you, her Alpha; the one person she should never have to fear, the one person in this world she should always be able to trust."

A slow trembling took over the assassin's limbs as the memories of what he had done to one of the few people – creatures– he had trusted over the last few years. And he had hurt her in a way he could never fix. Silently, Yassen exited the circle and knelt before Kia, "I'm sorry," he breathed shakily, "I'm so sorry, Kia."

She didn't let go of their shared grandfather until he urged her to with a small nudge. When she released him, the she-wolf all but collapsed into her cousin's, her beloved Alpha's arms. Yassen held his beta close, carefully avoiding contact with any of her injuries, "I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry..." His soft, whispered mantra caused the loup-garou to start shuddering, sobbing in relief at having him back to normal. The purr rumbling from the Russian's chest lulled the young woman to sleep; when he felt her breath even he looked up at the man who'd been a constant in his life since he was an angry fifteen-year-old on Malogosto. "I keep hurting the people I care about, Grandfather."

Peng smiled sadly, "I know, but one day you will be able to heal them as well."

Yassen took solace in those few words, "Please, I don't mind killing or torturing when needed but this is my family...I can't wait for 'one day'." He closed his and rocked his cousin as he trailed off.

The old dragon smiled down at his grandchildren, "Alright then, I'll see what I can do, tomorrow." As saccharine as it seemed, two broken men began to heal that day; recovery would be long and the Asian had no doubt that there would be plenty of backslides along the way, but things were finally moving in the right direction.


	17. Chapter 16

**Author's Note**:

Well, I'm royally screwed this semester of college. I have six classes two of which are labs and one is a foreign language which means I have even less time than I did before. I will apologize now if, once we've reached the end of those chapters already written (about ten weeks from now), updates become slow/irregular/erratic. Life just really screws up any plans.

I'm good with my classes, so if there is a hold up further down the line blame her *points up at co-authoress* I'm perfectly willing to keep going but it takes two to write this thing. Now if only my roommate would stop watching Jersey Shore, then life would be great.

**Chapter 16**

John Crawley felt like banging his head against a wall. He and K-Unit had been working on dead-end after dead-end trying to find a lead on where Yassen Gregorovich might be hiding. They tried every possible anagram of the assassin's name and all of his known aliases and had come up with bupkis; what was he using to hide?

Wolf finally threw the stack of papers he was reading down and groaned miserably, "We are never going to find this guy." The team was discouraged and it was starting to show; they didn't want to hunt down Blunt's killer but they were bound by orders to do so and now they had nothing. There was the sound of a chair creeping and Fox's low whistle again.

"What is it?" Eagle had heard his comrade too.

"Gregorovich and John Rider were paired for several years, right?"

Mr. Crawley nodded his head, "What does that have to do with anything."

"Well, you work with someone for a long time, you develop trust. There's no doubt that they had to share homes on occasions that called for laying low right?" Fox paused for effect, "What if we're looking at the wrong person for properties. Is there anything listed under Rider's name or any of his known aliases?"

Crawley blinked in surprise, "There are two, one here in England and a summer home in Romania. Neither of them has been inhabited for years."

"Romania?" Eagle asked curiously, "What better place to hide? Mountains, sheer cliffs, mostly underdeveloped cities. Great place to hide out."

Wolf nodded in agreement, "Makes sense and it's close to the Black Sea, so Gregorovich could easily have his yacht standing by."

Crawley mulled over this news with a frown; they had the assassin. They would be able to bring him in easily enough. The thoughts that would have once brought a grin of triumph to the old man's face now only left a hollow feeling in his gut.

It was Wolf who voiced what the group was collectively feeling, "I really don't want to bring the man in. He was just getting revenge for a great kid who Blunt murdered; Hell, if we had known about Alex's death we'd have probably helped him! It just doesn't seem right..."

"Regardless," Crawley muttered, "we have our orders."

"Our orders suck," Eagle replied.

Fox let out his low whistle again, "Technically, Yassen's dead." Everyone in the room stared at the man as if he were insane. "Well, all we've proved is that it is **possible** for Yassen Gregorovich to be alive and that it's **possible** he killed the bastard; but officially, the Russian's dead. We'd be laughed at if we said Blunt was killed by a ghost. We could just go visit Romania, telling Jones that we may have a lead but aren't sure and just want to check it, pay the man a visit, and come back if we like what we hear without arresting or killing him."

Four pairs of disbelieving eyes stared at him in shock. "That... is the most **brilliant** plan I have heard in **YEARS**!" Wolf shouted, leaping to his feet and grabbing hold of Fox in a head-lock. "Why the hell didn't you think of that earlier?"

"Need to breathe, Wolf; let go of...**ME**!" The team leader released him only for their other teammates repeat the hold.

"Well then," the agent started, "let's get things moving."

K-Unit wasn't listening. For all their training and hard earned experience they were still only in their early thirties, young enough to maintain an almost boyish exuberance when on their own. Crawley let them have their fun while he started the paperwork; he had a terrible feeling about the Romania trip. There was something that was bothering him; a bad vibe or some other such weird supernatural nonsense he'd learned to trust over the years. There was going to be something at John Rider's old house that was going to destroy K-Unit's humor.

In an unknown location, a creature paced frantically: Things were going horribly; the Rider brat escaping him the year before and then Blunt's death. This was **bad**, if what it'd heard was true then K-Unit had been assigned to look into the death of the MI6 chief and it just **knew** they'd found out about his deal with the dead man. He had to get Alex Rider back from Gregorovich so he'd never be able to tell. It laughed cruelly, "I'll make you suffer for running away, pet, and I'll kill your precious savior too." The thing shifted its shape into the more familiar form of K-Unit's Snake; betrayal always made the blood taste sweeter.

Less than two weeks later K-Unit was outfitted with tactical gear, a helicopter, and enough rations to last them a month. Crawley took a briefcase and a spare suit. They had laid out their plan to Mrs. Jones, embellishing a detail or two, and had been given the green light to check the old manor house for possible habitation. They were to parachute four kilometers away from the target and then hike the rest of the way to the residence. After that, K-Unit's plan was rather...vague.

"Hey, Fox! Got anymore bright ideas bouncing around in that empty skull of yours?" Wolf asked as they approached the two kilometer mark where they would remove the majority of their gear and hide it for a return trip.

"Nothing yet," the younger man called back.

"Great," he mumbled, "I do so love flying blind."

As the house came into view, the unit noticed that it wasn't so much a house but a fifteenth century castle out of Dracula film. "John Rider bought this place? On what salary?" Snake exclaimed. Crawley frowned, he had been to this place once before and it had looked nothing like this. Then again, it had been nearly twenty-five years since then, it had probably been added on to.

"Ignore the fortress and keep moving. It would probably be best if we didn't come across as hostile," was the agent's commanding response; he may not be team leader but he was the oldest and someone had to be the responsible adult.

"So you expect use to just walk up and ring the doorbell?" Wolf asked in disbelief, slightly miffed at the older man's order.

"Yes." Crawley responded easily.

Before K-Unit's leader could start yelling, Fox butt in, "I'm with the old man; I really don't want Gregorovich to shoot me." With a consensus reached, the four soldiers and single agent circled around the large fortress and approached the front door cautiously, weapons put away but within easy reach. Wolf moved ahead of the others and banged his fist against the wooden door harshly.

They were expecting a hail of gunfire, a grenade, or the assassin himself; they were not expecting a woman in her late twenties dressed in a fashion similar to Lara Croft from the first Tomb Raider movie. Wolf immediately felt his pants tighten: She was beautiful with short pale blonde hair cropped in what could be called an inverted bob, dark ocean-blue eyes framed by delicate lashes, and legs that went on for miles. Her outfit consisted of a light blue shirt shoved into dark denim shorts and belted with buckle shaped like the signature that had been on the letter sent to MI6 with Blunt's head.

"Can I help you," she asked sweetly, her voice soft and bell-like and a small smile gracing her plump pink lips.

Wolf could only stare open-mouthed at the vision before him, completely unaware that his teammates were sharing a quick snicker behind their hands. Eventually Crawley moved forward and extended a hand politely, "Greetings Miss..."

"Kia, just Kia. Please, come in; you probably want to talk to my cousin." She swept a strand of hair behind her ear before motioning them in; giving a bright smile to the unit leader.

Flabbergasted then men entered the foyer cautiously and lingered for a moment before the young lady led them down a short hallway to a large sitting room with comfortable looking couches and armchairs. "Please wait here a moment while I go get him."

She quickly walked from the room and out towards the backyard where Yassen and Dr. Peng were sparring; her Alpha needed to learn control over his new strength and senses. Alex was out under the willow so he could be near the two in case anything happened.

"Grandfather, cousin, there are guest in the foyer. K-Unit and an agent from MI6, I believe. Do you want them to see Alex?" The young Sorcerer lifted his head from the grimoire Peng was forcing him to read; he'd always liked working with K-Unit and it would be nice to meet them under better circumstances but Snake would be with them...

Yassen paused for a split second too long and received a vicious blow to his stomach, doubling him over in pain, gasping for breath. Peng simply wiped his hands on the front of his shirt and, glancing at Alex, shook his head slightly. "Let us speak with them first, to see what they want. If they pose no threat then perhaps we will let them speak to Alexander." The old dragon had taken to calling the teen by his full name in an attempt to distance the boy from the memories of what had happened to him. It seemed to be working…somewhat. The Russian remained bent over, trying to regain the breath that had been forced from his body, but he also nodded in agreement.

"Alright, they're waiting then." She motioned for them to follow after her; she wasn't going to hide away with her pack-mate no matter how much she cared for him – Kia had noticed Wolf looking at her and he was a rather handsome fellow...Peng followed his granddaughter immediately but Yassen remained behind a moment to steady his breathing and to speak with Alex in private.

"You do not wish to speak to them," he observed. The blonde shook his head slightly but, after a moment of staring after the Asian's retreating form, returned to his book. "Very well, when I have finished talking with them I will show them out." Decision made, the assassin straightened and followed his cousin back into the house in time to hear his grandfather let out an uproarious laugh.

The Russian only raised an eyebrow at the scene before him: The she-wolf was seated on armrest of Wolf's chair and was obviously flirting; the team leader was blushing like a virgin and very much interested. The rest of the unit was snickering and cracking jokes, further adding to their boss's red cheeks. The MI6 agent had turned his eyes away and covered his mouth to hide his smile; Dr. Peng was teasing the dark male and laughing whenever he stumbled over his words.

It was an oddly peaceful scene that Yassen didn't wish to disturb by announcing his presence, however, eventually one of the soldiers took notice of him and the look of teasing joy slid from his face as he stared at the tall Russian. One by one his companions noticed what was happening and joined in on examining the assassin's every move as he calmly walked over to one of the armchairs and settled himself quietly.

"Why are you here?" It was a simple, no-nonsense question; the killer wanted to get straight to the point because _Sashka_ didn't want to see them.

The men were frozen in shock, yes they had thrown around the idea that the assassin was still alive...but none of them actually expected to be sitting down to converse with him without violence of some sort occurring first. Finally, Crawley broke the strained silence, "We were simply wondering if it was you who killed Alan Blunt."

"Yes," was the only thing the Russian had to say.

"But he was not the one to interrogate the man," the old man voiced. K-Unit stilled in shock: The grandfatherly man with quick smiles and kind eyes meticulously tortured a man for information? It didn't seem to quite compute for the soldiers even though the agent seemed to take it in stride. "Did you know that Alexander Rider's life as a spy was planned from the moment John Rider switched his loyalty from MI6 to SCORPIA?"

Crawley's shocked silence was answer enough for Yassen. "It was John's brother, Ian, who killed both of Alex's parents. Whatever lie Blunt contrived to explain their deaths was simply that: a lie." The agent's skin paled, it had been announced right after the Rider's deaths that they had been killed when a bomb had exploded on their plane. But that explanation had always seemed... off to the older man, and now he knew why.

Crawley sank lower in his chair, covering his face with one hand at the realization of what he was being told. It fit perfectly into the holes surrounding John and Helen's deaths. With a slightly shuddering breath the aged agent lifted his head to ask the question he had been dreading... only to be distracted by a shifting shadow in the crack of the doorway that the assassin had entered. The shadowed figure moved again and Crawley's eyes widened in shock, "Alex?" he gasped, rising to his feet unconsciously.

The figure stilled before cautiously opening the door and stepping into view. Alex was trembling slightly. _Stupid, stupid, stupid!_, he chided himself silently; how could he get caught so easily? As he moved further into the room, fully intending to curling up next to Yassen for safety, he noticed Snake. Or, more specifically, noticed that this Snake was different from the Snake who'd spent a year torturing him: Everything that was asymmetrical was switched to the opposite side. The blonde's eyes widened as he remembered a chapter in the grimoire he had been reading. As he raced from the room, all but Peng rushed after him; the old man followed just at a more sedate pace.

"Cub! Hold up! Cub!" Wolf shouted for the youngest member of K-Unit, trying desperately to catch up with what he prayed wasn't just a figment of his imagination.

K-Unit, Agent Crawley, as well as Yassen, Kia, and Peng stopped when they caught to the teen in the backyard; Alex was holding a book and flipping through the pages rapidly, trying to find the chapter he was looking for.

"Alexander, what is it?" the elder asked.

"That year I was tortured, I thought it was by Snake," the teen babbled even as the aforementioned soldier stumbled over his own two feet, "but the face is wrong. Switched, sides..." The ex-spy finally reached the page he had been looking for with a noise of triumph and thrust the book at Chinese man.

The dragon carefully scrolled over the page and his eyebrows rose the farther down he read. A shape-shifter? Why would a shape-shifter want to impersonate a member of K-Unit and...To make Alexander feel betrayed. Those that could change form paid the price by requiring living flesh for sustenance and he'd once heard that betrayal left a taste of sweetness in the blood. But why the youngest Rider in particular? "Are you certain?"

"Positive," Alex affirmed, "The features were reversed on my captor."

"Time out!" Snake made the T-symbol hand sign to emphasize his objection. "What's this about me torturing Cub for a year?"

Peng frowned and turned to look at the stunned K-Unit. "It would be best if we moved back inside. Alexander," the teen looked up, "will you be joining us?" Alex shifted slightly, uncertain, before nodding. The group moved to the living room where the elder began the explanation of all that had happened to the blonde; the response of the new-comers varied with their personalities: Wolf wanted to bring Blunt back from the dead to kill him all over again; Eagle looked ill; Fox was stone cold, probably planning various ways to kill Alan Blunt if they were able to resurrect him; Mr. Crawley had tears rolling down his face unconsciously; and Snake just sat there staring numbly at his hands – it had to have been hardest on him; Cub's jailer had used his face to cause the kid pain.

Throughout it all Alex sat beside Yassen, fingers entwined with the older man's, shaking almost imperceptibly. Listening to it all again re-woke the old pain he had felt during the time he had been a captive. Yet for some reason it didn't cut quite as deeply as it once had, as if something inside him was beginning to accept what had happened to him and move on.

"Why did he use my face? If he wanted to hurt Cub he could have used the form of anyone K-Unit; so why did he use mine?" Snake asked his voice devoid of emotion.

"I do not know," Peng admitted tiredly, "perhaps the being was able to get a hold of some of your DNA. Maybe it would have been more believable. I simply do not have the answer to that."

The silence after that was thunderous, no one could think of anything that would break through the miasma of shock and pain that permeated the room until Wolf started snickering. At a questioning look from Crawley and a deadly glare from Yassen the soldier cleared his throat, "I won the bet," he stated simply.

"What bet," the assassin's voice was murderous.

Fox rolled his eyes at his leader's words before answering, "We bet five hundred quid each that you didn't have any family. He bet you did. You have a cousin. He won."

The Russian grinned and shiver went down K-Unit's and Mr. Crawley's spines, "Then you each owe him one thousand quid; Dr. Peng is my grandfather."

Wolf burst into hysterical laughter quickly followed by Fox and Eagle; the remaining two just stared at the assassin in shock.

"So you can joke? Huh, and here we thought you had no humor," Fox managed to say between laughs.

"He has some humor," Alex commented moving to better sit in the younger dragon's lap, "it just comes out at odd times."

K-Unit was startled by the teen's move into the assassin's lap, but Crawley merely smiled slightly and mouth, _Like father, like son._

"You can stop thinking that, Mr. Crawley." The man jumped, _Huh?_ "My father and Yassen never had sex." A small grin teased his lips when said Russian curled his arms around the boy.

Fox stood suddenly and crossed the room in two steps to wrap his arms tightly about Alex's slim form, ignoring the warning growl from Yassen. "I'm so glad you're not dead, Cub!"

The Brit chuckled, "Thank you for the sentiment but you may want to remove your hands before you lose them." A second growl from the young dragon made Fox smile fearfully and let the teen go.

Peng stood, "It is late and I'm sure everyone is tired after such a long day. Please, allow me to guide you to your rooms after you tell Kia where you left your gear."

It took almost an hour to get the soldiers and agent settled comfortably in the guest rooms that lined the second floor. With a gusty sigh Peng flopped back into his chair and glanced out one of the windows to watch the sun sink below the tree line. "Things are finally starting to look up," he muttered before letting his head fall back for a nap.


	18. Chapter 17

**Author's Note:**

Everyone keeps commenting on how things are looking up in the story and that it seems that everything is finally going right…I just keep grinning every time I read a comment like that. Just you wait, my lovelies; Shiinmaru-dono has so much more evil left. Just keep tuned in.

In other news, I'm having to move out of my dorm room because my roomie is a bitch for lack of a better word. Hopefully I get the location I want for my move; if you pray, please pray I get into the room I want. It will make my muse return and thus, you will have more chapters. *scantily-clad fox woman waves tiredly* Have fun!

Not much to say on this side of the state, really (literally, we live on opposite sides of Florida, it's ridiculous) but I am going to make another plug for our short side-shoots for this story. We currently have two written, one is posted, the other is waiting for an opportunity to be shown and in order to see that second one we need your help. We need someone who understands basic combat and how a small, elite force could theoretically take down a larger one. Please give us some advice or point us to a website or book that might be helpful. Angst we can do, warfare not so much. Sho-dono out and sleeping.

**Chapter 17**

Sunrise the next morning had everyone in the household sparring in the backyard – except Alex Rider who Dr. Peng had forbidden to do any strenuous activity. Wolf had claimed Yassen early as a sparring partner and had quickly come to regret it: while he was nearly dead on his feet from the blows he had received (bare taps from the assassin) Yassen looked as if he had merely been taking a leisurely stroll. It was severely unfair in the soldier's mind.

"Why is that Gregorovich here isn't even winded when I'm about to collapse in a dead faint?" the dark-skinned man asked, gasping for breath.

"Because you're fat!" Fox called jokingly as he held Eagle in a choke hold. Crawley and Peng both snorted at the jibes the young men threw back and forth between themselves.

"Grandfather," Kia called out, "should they be told?"

"That is a question better asked of Alexander," the teen looked up from his reading. "Are they trustworthy, little one?"

The blonde didn't hesitate in nodding his affirmation, "'Confide not in those yet to be proven worthy of trust,' is the saying. K-Unit and Mr. Crawley have proven themselves worthy of our trust. They haven't told MI6 that Yassen and I are alive nor have they tried to take Yassen and you in for killing Blunt."

Peng nodded calmly before ducking as one of Wolf's boots came flying at him. Startled he looked over to see the young soldier lying sprawled on the ground where he had obviously been thrown. "But first I think it might be safer if we moved indoors."

"Ouch!" K-Unit's leader exclaimed.

"Quit whining; you're the one who wanted to spar with my grandson. Now you reap what you've sown," the doctor calmly replied as he tended to the numerous cuts and bruises the man had received.

"You were obviously discussing telling us something back out there. Care to fill us in now?" Mr. Crawley asked; there'd been enough stalling and he was getting agitated from all the suspense.

Peng placed a final bandage on a particularly nasty cut on the young man's upper arm and stood from where he had been crouched. "Of course. I apologize for the delay but some things trigger my paternal instincts that need to be taken care of." The old dragon led the pair back into the living room where the rest of K-Unit, Alex, Yassen and Kia were waiting patiently – if you called making fun of their injured companion, patient.

"Yessenia, please demonstrate your unique gift." The she-wolf stood up and stretched; as she leaned forward her form shifted into that of a white wolf. "Not everything in this world is at it seems." Wolf yelped in shock, stumbling backwards as the large loup-garou padded towards him curiously. Kia, enjoying his reaction, jumped towards him, transforming in mid-leap to land a top the soldier in human form. Wolf stared at her open-mouthed as she sat comfortably atop him. The other three SAS men stared as well, unsure of how to react other than shock. Alex yawned, completely bored and showing no interest in the drama that was unfolding.

"Grandfather isn't loup-garou – Romanian werewolf – like me; he's a Chinese _lóng_ or dragon if your Mandarin isn't the best. Yassen's blood is too diluted to take a dragon or loup-garou form but it does increase his strength, endurance, agility, speed, and senses." She paused for breath before continuing, "Alex isn't entirely human himself; he has Sorcerer littering his line – that's not the same thing as a wizard; wizards are two-bit hacks who perform tricks for an audience. So, if he focuses he can do real magic; like when he read Mr. Crawley's mind last night." She then blinked in realization and looked down at the man she sat atop, "Wow, were **you** stupid this morning in challenging my cousin!"

"Um, Kia I don't think he's going to respond; you're kind of on his..." Eagle motioned with his hands futilely, "you know." The commander was blushing and trying to look anywhere but down the woman's shirt; between her landing on his morning wood and her ample bosom all but spilling out of her low-cut top he was very aroused and very embarrassed.

At Kia's clueless look Yassen rubbed his forehead, "Get off, or fuck him," he said, deadpan even as Peng and Crawley choked at the Russian's bluntness.

"Yassen!" The assassin just shrugged at his grandfather's reproving tone.

The she-wolf looked contemplative, as if she couldn't decide which was the better option.

"Yessenia just get off the poor man!" Peng cried even as he started laughing. She made a whimpering noise; but Wolf was a strong, virile male and she was a young, fertile female...he would be a good mate to have and she liked sitting on his lap...

Yassen finally stood and physically picked her up before dragging her over to one of the empty chairs and dropping her in it. "Stay," he muttered before returning to his own seat, his mate quickly cuddling into his lap.

Later as the sun was beginning to set, a darkness marched ever closer to the Gregorovich household. The thing – now known to be a shape-shifter – in Snake's form grinned menacingly as it sprinted across the rural landscape. Cruelty in its thoughts, it savored the memories of torturing Alex Rider while planning new means to cause him agony. When it reached the edge of the foliage surrounding the fortress it paused an inhaled a great gust of air, scenting those who resided within the building.

Damn it, it thought angrily; the human whose form he'd borrowed was with his prey! It couldn't use the cursed thing if the Rider had already discovered his ploy! Growling it shifted to another; a human girl-child it had devoured during Japan's _Sengoku_ _Jidai_. They'd called the little maidens in red and white _miko_; gathering around their 'holy power' as protection. There was no power and her purity had only made her a target for the thing; the _miko_ had lasted an entire week before it had devoured her. The monster would use her body now to secure entrance into the assassin's fortress; no one could resist a pretty, injured young lady.

Approaching the front door the creature split the skin of the woman's face and bent the bone of her right arm, when it deemed its appearance to be pitiful enough it scratched its left hand against the door. Once it heard the approach of someone it lowered itself to torn knees and leaned against the doorway, lowering its head. A soft gust of air informed the shape-shifter that the door had been opened and it lifted its face slowly to see a curious pair of blue eyes watching it cautiously.

Instead of the pity and concern it had expected, a feral growl bellowed out of the young woman who'd answered the door. "Leave, demon," she ordered before shouting for her grandfather. Dr. Peng and Yassen were the first to appear with K-Unit, Crawley, and Alex only a few paces behind.

"Kia, the Hell? Why haven't you helped the poor girl in?" Wolf demanded sharply, moving forward when the she-wolf's arm blocked his way.

"That isn't a human girl," the dragon replied. With speed that even the assassin couldn't track, the doctor hurled himself and the faux-female away from the home. With a howl the creature shifted into the form of Dark Age's Western Dragon and drove its large fangs into Peng's neck.

The dragon guised as human chuckled, "You must be young to not be able to sense what I am." The creature's fangs hadn't even scratched the old man's skin. The muscles beneath the aged flesh began to shift and the shape-shifter jumped back. The Asian's body contorted grotesquely until a massive black Chinese _Lóng_ emerged; Li Peng, The Dragon of Death, let out roar before rushing to attack. With a growl, the shape-shifter leapt at the larger Chinese _Lóng_. Peng lifted his great head and answered the challenge head-on.

While the great beasts battled, K-Unit, Agent Crawley, Kia, and Yassen couldn't do more than watch in combined awe and horror. It was one thing to know and another entirely to see what the elder had told them. No one noticed as Alex collapsed to the ground, his body trembling violent and his breath coming in short, uneven struggles of inhalation. Every cell in his body was shaking in terror while the old wounds that had once healed re-opened; the pain was excruciating but the ex-spy only bit his lip to stifle the scream.

But Yassen heard his mate's scream and looked over at him. When the assassin saw the blood beginning to leak through the shirt and pants Alex was wearing he let out a wordless cry of shock and rushed to the teen's side. "_Sashka_! What – how?" The blonde couldn't speak and only coughed up blood in his attempt. "Wolf!" the Russian roared, "Get everyone inside now!" K-Unit's leader didn't move for a split second, too shocked by the sight of Cub covered in blood to move, but a second order from Yassen spurred him and the others into action.

Once they had settled Alex upon a couch in the living room Eagle pulled out his field kit and started to help Alex where he could. The assassin looked on for a few seconds before turning away and running up the stairs towards the fourth floor. There was only one room on the top floor of the fortress, it was locked at all times and only Yassen knew the code. With sharp stiff movements he tapped it into the keypad and shoved the heavy door open to reveal an arsenal that could arm a large army. The pale haired man paused a moment, deciding which weapon would be the better fit for the – admittedly insane – venture.

When John had first shown him the place the assassin had complained about the lack of a sniper's nest; after the fiasco of Air Force One he'd fled to the fortress only to find that SCORPIA's Hunter had added a high point perfect for sharpshooting. Climbing the roof to the spot, the younger dragon moved the rifle and himself into the nest; he loaded the weapon, aimed for the eye of the Western Dragon, and fired. Perfect shot. Shockingly, the beast fell; black ooze evaporating only to leave a female child no older than six in its wake.

Yassen hesitated, shooting a fighting dragon was one thing, but killing a child that appeared to be doing nothing but curling up on the ground was something else entirely. The decision was taken out of his hands when Peng returned to human form only to lift the little girl and carry her into the home; apparently, she was a non-threat. Startled by his grandfather's actions the assassin didn't move from his perch for several moments while his brain processed what he had seen. It didn't make sense! Peng was the one to attack the creature in the first place now he was carrying it into _his_ house without a second thought! Spurred into action by this thought the Russian swung himself down from the sniper-nest and all but flew down the four stories in search of the old Asian.

"Grandfather–" the elder cut him off.

"I will explain later; just know that she is not the creature that harmed Alex. She is as innocent in all of this as your mate is. And before you ask, Alex will be fine with some rest; the shape-shifter was rather clever to create a back-up plan like that." A flare of anger shot through Yassen's chest, but the slight movement he'd made towards his everyday pistol drew a sharp glare from his elder. "Go to your mate, child. Leave the girl to my care."

The younger _lóng_ grumbled the entire time it took to reach the last Rider's room; when he stepped through the threshold he paused. His angel was connected to machines again; including one that was breathing for the blonde. The anger returned full-force and had he not known better than to incite his grandfather's ire the assassin would have finished the job he had begun.

Some time ago a loveseat had been moved into Alex's room alongside the previously present armchair; Wolf was lying length-wise across it while his werewolf cousin lounged atop him. When the Russian raised an eyebrow, the SAS soldier merely said, "I was sitting in here watching over Cub when she stumbled in with tears; I think she has nightmares, Gregorovich." The second pale eyebrow joined the first to create a dubious look on the assassin's face.

"He's not deceiving you, cousin," the loup-garou rubbed her eyes tiredly as she shifted to look at the killer. "I had a dream about how today could have gone had I not noticed the woman wasn't human: In it, the monster tortured you for hours before eating you slowly in front of Alex then using your form to rape him until it grew hungry enough and devoured Alex. I just wanted to come in here and make sure my pack-mate was safe and Wolf saw me crying and–" The young woman hiccupped before tears trailed down her cheeks again. Wolf pulled her closer; giving comfort and hold the petite female he was quickly falling in love with.

Yassen studied the pair for a moment before making the executive decision that they needed some time alone. Which meant that they had three seconds before they were getting thrown out of the room. "Yessenia." She looked up, "Perhaps you two would be more comfortable in your room. Grandfather is busy with the girl the shape-shifter left behind and won't notice if a male is alone with you..." He trailed before slowly counting down from ten. _10, 9, 8..._Kia gave her Alpha a confused look. _7, 6, 5..._Her mouth made an 'o' shape as she understood what he said. _4, 3, 2, 1..._She yanked the leader of K-Unit to his feet before all but dragging him out the door. _0. _"Finally!" Yassen muttered as he pointedly took their place on the armchair. He planned on waiting for his mate to awaken no matter how long it took. Calmly he reached out and held Alex's hand gently and urged him to heal.


	19. Chapter 18

**Author's Note**:

*skimpy clad authoress does caramelldansen, caramelldansen, caramelldansen…*

*head is lying on desk while Weeds plays on computer screen* My brain is dead and this probably isn't helping but, oh well, it's addictive.

**Chapter 18**

It took three days for the blonde to heal enough for the breathing tube to be removed and another four days for the teen to awake. On the fifth day Peng had knocked his grandson out and handcuffed him to his bed once more. When Alex awoke he saw a little girl with pale blonde hair and dark blue eyes; his first thought was that she looked like a female Yassen-baby. "What's your name, little one?" his voice was raspy from disuse.

The little girl fidgeted for a moment before answering in a small, barely audible voice, "Eveleen."

Alex smiled encouragingly, "That's a very pretty name, Eveleen. Now, do you know where Yassen is?" At her blankly curious look he described his mate.

The child's eyes widened slightly, fearfully. "He's not a nice man. He shot me."

The teen had to struggle to keep the grin off his face as he replied, "Sweetie, if he'd shot you, you would not be talking to me right now. Yassen is an assassin – a killer for hire – he never misses and you are, obviously, very much alive." A frown marred the youth's face, "How did you get here, Eveleen?"

"The big shadow ate me and then the bad man shot me. The nice old man – I think is name was Pung?– saved me from him and brought me here."

"Peng but close enough. He wasn't shooting at you; he was shooting the big shadow. Peng probably didn't save you in the sense you're thinking; most likely, my mate, Yassen to you, little one, thought you a threat to me. Yassen is Peng's grandson and he's very protective of me; but he doesn't kill children otherwise he would have killed several of my friends years ago." The child yawned; it was almost nap time and she was feeling sleepy. Alex noticed; he scooted over and patted the bed, "Climb up; I'm going to take a nap and there's more than enough room for both of us." Something in the Brit just wanted to wrap the little blonde girl in his arms and protect her from all the evils in the world.

Unbeknownst to the slumbering pair they were being watched by the aforementioned assassin. A silent snarl twisted Yassen's hansom features, he did not like that that child, and he despised her being close to his angel.

As the Russian was about to tear the blonde girl from the bed, Kia hugged him from behind. "She looks like you and Alex could have been her parents." He stiffened, "I mean, she has pale blonde hair and blue eyes like us and a face like Alex's. She could be your daughter for how much her appearance resembles yours and it seems as if your angel already thinks of her as his own flesh and blood. Wouldn't it be nice to have a family? A child who would love you unconditionally? I know you want Alex to someday bear you children but you could easily start with this one..."

"You seem unusually motherly, Yessenia," his reply was cold and the she-wolf shivered.

"Just trying to help." Kia muttered before slinking away to rejoin her own new mate in the room they had claimed for themselves. K-Unit had agreed that it would be best if they returned to Britain a couple of days after the incident with the shape-shifter, Wolf had volunteered to stay behind and keep them posted on Alex's condition. Crawley had gone with the three soldiers in order to explain that the leader was simply taking advantage of his two weeks leave, not defecting.

Several weeks had passed since the shape-shifter had been banished and things within the household were falling apart. Kia was suffering morning sickness and had taken to attacking any and all who attempted to go near her and Wolf's room except for her mate. Not even Yassen could get within a few feet without being subjected to her wrath. The assassin himself was becoming ever angrier at the child that his mate seemed to have taken heart to. The little Eveleen had insinuated herself into the teen's heart and he had let her. The Russian couldn't accept this. To get some time with his angel he'd taken to slipping into Alex's bed in the middle of the night; possessively curled about the blonde.

For the first two weeks he spent his time avoiding the child as if she carried the bubonic plague, but for some reason she would always find him, even when he ensconced himself in the deepest parts of the fortress with book upon book explaining the different creatures and their weaknesses that inhabited the world that he had not previously known of. She would not leave him be! Trouble was bound to happen eventually. Yassen had buried himself in a thick tomb when a small hand tapped his shoulder from behind. The assassin reacted instantly and purely on instinct. He whipped his arm out and caught whomever it was that had touched him in the stomach. It was a move he had used countless times without harming the one it was aimed at, but he had not taken into consideration his increased strength. Eveleen went flying into a wall, her loud shrieks summoning Alex from wherever he had been.

His mate's reaction was terrifying in that he'd never seen such hatred in his angel's eyes – not even when he'd killed the teen's uncle. The assassin had fled before the youth could use some of the nastier spells he'd learned during his stay. Quietly, Yassen stayed hidden for the remainder of the day and hoped his mate wouldn't be too put out with him.

During the past two weeks Alex had noticed the Russian's new-born quirks but had let it slide without incident; not even minding being woken in the middle of the night to his mate possessively embracing him. But the teen had finally had enough of his mate's behavior when the younger dragon had shoved his adopted daughter into the wall. So that night when the blue-eyed male tried to slip into his bed, Alex forcefully kicked him out. At Yassen's confused and angry expression, the youth coldly said, "I don't know what your problem is, Yassen Gregorovich, and I don't much care at this point but enough is enough. I've adopted Evee as my daughter and, dear God, if you want me as a mate you will accept it. She's my baby now and you keep hurting her; Evee is scared to go anywhere by herself because she thinks you'll put a bullet through her brain if I'm not there to stop you. She's an innocent child! She had nothing to do with what happened to me and you're treating her like she's the anti-Christ!"

The Russian pulled his lips back from his teeth in anger, "You call her innocent and yet look at what she did to you: Tortured you for a year with no mercy. I don't give a damn if she was possessed by that demon she still had a hand in it and I refuse to accept her ploy!"

The Brit closed his eyes as tears began to trail down his face, "Get out, Yassen; I won't have a mate who would harm my daughter. Evee and I will leave when my wounds heal and you won't ever have to see her or me ever again." Alex used what magic he learned to force the assassin from the room and bar the door in a way the killer could never get through before breaking down into heart-wrenching sobs. _You and Dad were wrong, Dr. Peng; no can ever love a whore like me_, he thought before crying himself to sleep.

Yassen could hear his mate's crying but didn't try to force his way into the room, he knew better than to mess with one of the fledgling sorcerer's spells, instead he paced the hallway for a few hours before finally settling himself directly in front of his mate's door. The killer let his head lean back against the door; he knew that he had honestly fucked up this time. The emptiness in the back of his head where his mate's mind had always touched and the agonizing ache in his chest were proof of his monumental screw-up; he'd be asking for a miracle to make things right again. Long hours passed but Yassen never moved from his position, he didn't know if he was staying there out of apology or possessiveness, he needed to be close to his mate, that was all he knew. As the sun rose the next morning a small noise drew the assassin's attention further down the hall where Eveleen stood frozen in fear.

"Please don't hurt me," she whimpered, shaking in terror with bruising across her face and her right arm in a sling. His eyes widened: Had he really caused that much damage to a child so young? The wolf part of his mind growled at him; calling him a monster and unworthy of a mate: What would he do to his own young if he was willing to harm his mate's adopted cub? The dragon part, which had previously been in disagreement with the canine, switched sides and agreed; children were precious and even though Eveleen had been a part of the creature that'd harmed their mate she wasn't the one who raped Alex. The contract killer felt bile rise in his throat; he was truly sickened with his actions over the past few weeks. He fled. After so much time spent outside his _Sashka's_ door the assassin ran when faced with the harm he caused. His angel was right to reject him; he was as bad as the shape-shifter.

When Alex woke the next morning he found Eveleen curled up in his arms. For a moment he was surprised that it wasn't Yassen... until he remembered what the killer had done. With a clenched jaw he drew his daughter closer to him and held her tightly. "Don't worry, little Evee, he won't harm you anymore." Unknown to either of the two in the bed the assassin was no longer within the fortress. Nor in the surrounding woods. Nor in the village. He had vanished.

It wasn't until the two made their way to breakfast did they notice anything wrong. Kia and Wolf were running around looking into every room while Peng was seated in a chair, acting very much like the elderly man he appeared to be. "What's wrong?" the teen asked, a knot of dread taut in his belly. The doctor didn't answer, he simply extended his hand to give the Brit the note he'd been grasping. There were only two words written over and over again on the paper, _'I'm Sorry'_.

"I don't understand...Please, someone explain what's wrong..." The dread had turned to panic; his heart ached and he felt the same emptiness he'd carried since Air Force One until Yassen had saved him.

"Yassen is gone," Peng said, sounding every bit as old as he was, "he probably left sometime last night. We haven't been able to find as much as a hint of him. Not here, not in the yard, and the villagers haven't seen him since his last trip down for supplies a week ago. He's just... vanished."

It was Eveleen who noticed; Alex just...collapsed in on himself. _Nonononononononono; this is Yassen's home and family and he's gone...Has to be my fault; always my fault. Just a stupid fuck-up whore; I taint everything I touch with my poison...__Worthless! Shouldn't have failed to kill myself..._ "Mummy!" the little girl cried but Alex was unable to hear his child. The ex-spy slumped onto the chair before returning to a catatonic state; letting his memories and nightmares consume his mind once more.

Yassen felt the pain lance through his body like a hot knife and silently curled his body up tighter. He knew that if he died then Alex wouldn't have to worry anymore; not about him hurting his precious new daughter, not about the assassin's opinion of him, absolutely nothing. The pain he suffered in the meantime would be his penance for the way he had been treating his beloved, but he knew that it would only end one way. It only ever did. Eventually Alex would move on, forget about the Russian, he would find someone else, someone who treated him better, like he was the most important thing in the world. Yassen felt the blood begin to bubble up his throat and over his lips. _Soon_, he thought, _soon you will never have to deal with me ever again, _Ангел мой_._

What the assassin didn't realize was that his grandfather and cousin had started an all-out manhunt for him; the two had recruited several of Peng's old friends to track down the blue-eyed man. With so many searching for Yassen it was little Eveleen who, desperate for her mummy to awake, used what knowledge of magic she'd gained from her time within the creature to find the Russian. The spells themselves weren't terribly difficult, she was able to locate where the killer was... almost. There was a certain margin of error to be expected with that type of thing, but the child had not been expecting to end up in a trash filled alley with a dead dog not three feet from her. She recast her seek-and-point spell; gazing in the general direction the magic said to look, Evee saw a run-down motel. THIS was where Yassen Gregorovich was hiding? This dump? What was he doing here and not with her mummy?

Carefully, the child made her way to the end of the ally and was about to cross the street when she finally noticed the traffic. Thousands of people, carts, cars, bikes, anything that could fit on that street was fighting for their right to travel where they needed to go. In simple terms: suicide for someone under five feet. Eveleen moved back to her original landing point and chanted the transportation spell once more, this time picturing the alleyway beside the hotel; hopefully, she wouldn't be off by too much this time.

She was. She ended up in the middle of the street and had to dodge out of the way of a honking jeep before nearly being crushed by a rusting 1920's motorcycle. Curses flew from every direction at her and there wasn't a single helping hand to aid her. Stumbling and shaking, the small child finally managed to leap onto the trash-littered curb only to trip and fall against the side of the building, scraping her hands. She couldn't stop her racing heart or shivering limbs, her mind was cluttered with horrible images of what could have happened to her as she curled up against the corner of the building.

It took a while for the adrenaline to finally stop pumping and even longer for the shaking to ease. Slowly, Evee drew in a series of slow, deep, calming breaths before clambering to her feet and walking stiffly to the door to the seedy motel. Her attention returned once again to her spell, keeping her oblivious to the predatory eyes that now gazed at her small form.

Vladik Demochev was the motel's manager and owner, he also ran a rather profitable child prostitution ring; the little one with blonde hair and blue eyes would fetch a beautiful price. He signaled two of his employees to nab the brat; he wasn't going to let such a big pay check just leave. Oleg and Petrov, Demochev's most loyal goons, oozed out of the shadows before slinking over to the girl. Petrov grabbed her about the waist with one arm and covered her mouth with the other; in response, Evee bit down on her kidnapper's hand while making to kick him in the balls. She was too small to do any real damage but the sloppy criminal yanked back, freeing her to scream loud enough to wake the nearly dead a few floors above.

The bare whisper of sound reached Yassen whose eyes opened sluggishly as he lifted his head from the semi-congealed blood partially gluing him to the thin bedspread. He knew that voice…didn't he? Slowly the Russian pulled himself from the bed and, too weak to stand properly, dragged himself to the door of his rented room and clawed it open to listen. The noise came again; louder than the previous, the assassin was able to make out the words and it drove adrenaline through his veins and his body out the door. His mate would hate him forever if he let anything happen to Eveleen. Even if he died he couldn't stand the thought of his lover loathing the mere idea of him. Even if preventing that meant he had to save the child he distrusted.

Stumbling like a drunk, the assassin moved quickly down the hallway only to come to a stop at the stairs. There was only one way he was getting down them, and he really didn't like it. When he managed to reach the bottom of the stairs after many trips and near-falls, he saw Evee struggling in the arms of two men. Yassen would look back later, after the girl was safe, on his reaction to the smell of her terror in confusion. When he'd caught the barest scent of her fear something in him had snapped and after that… nothing. He couldn't remember what had happened after that, only that he had awoken freezing cold, body wrapped protectively around Eveleen's.

The room – if it could even be called that – was tiny, barely ten feet wide, rotting wooden timbers supported the walls and roof even as they creaked and cracked, threatening to fall and bury the pair who sought shelter within it. Yassen could distantly feel the biting chill but his body was numb, he couldn't even feel the small figure he cradled to his chest gently. Thinking of the young blonde, the Russian looked down at her sleeping form: Tear tracks marred her cheeks, her hair was impossibly tangled, and he could hear the occasional sniffle. He coiled about her more tightly; if she became hypothermic he wasn't quite sure what he could do to help. Actually, he still wasn't quite sure what was going on and he only dimly recognized the shabby quarters as an old hide-away he'd used as a youth. A sharp cough wracked through the Russian's body, he pressed his hand over his mouth in an attempt to muffle the harsh sounds and when he pulled it away he noticed the deep red of blood staining his fingers and palm. He was still dying. With another shudder he pulled Evee closer to his body and closed his eyes; he was so tired.

A myclonic jerk forced him to remain awake; even his body knew how terrible an idea it was to fall asleep in the middle of a Russian winter with no heating. He needed to get his mate's daughter back to him; his angel would hate him if he died and left her to fend for herself. Clenching his jaw tight he used the wall to lever himself up, Evee secured tightly against his chest by his left arm. The six-year-old's whimper stilled his movements instantly; he looked down and noticed blossoms of blood where his...claws had dug into her side. Carefully he withdrew them from the little girl's flesh only to note the nearly imperceptible blue scales trailing up his hand and beneath his sleeve.

His movements were slow, jerky, as if his joints were slowly being covered in ice. The streets and alleys he passed were empty, an unusual occurrence for a city as crowded as Moscow, which Yassen would have been grateful for had he been able to think clearly. The assassin had barely made it a few blocks before the scent of ash and the rustle of a thick cloak made him freeze. A low, warning growl rumbled instinctively from his chest only to draw a chuckle from the interloper.

"Calm, calm, Child of Death's Dragon," the voice moved into the light. A woman dressed in a fashion not seen since the turn of the twentieth century England was revealed: A red Victorian gown curved about her figure while a black, white fur-lined, cloak was fastened about her neck; a rose festooned hat seated atop crimson hair concealed one eye as she grinned, hands raised in effort to belie her peaceful intentions. "Your grandfather has all of us Old Ones and supernaturals out searching for you. I'm here just to make sure you return to him safely, that's all. Calm yourself, young hatchling, before you wake the little one in your arms."

Yassen didn't believe her; he had lived too many years to trust anyone on their word alone. It was a fool's trust and the Russian was no fool. His growl deepened to a near inaudible level as his blue tinged lips pulled back, revealing a set of well sharpened fangs. She laughed again, "Perhaps if I gave you my name you would be a little less wary, hm?" The inhuman woman – and something inside the assassin just knew she wasn't even remotely human – cocked her head to the side in what was meant to be seductive and smiled sweetly. "I am Iraya, High Lady of the Crimson Sun Clan and most ancient of the Old Ones," she spoke elegantly while gracefully sweeping into a full curtsy. When she righted herself, poise as evident as ever, the scarlet clad beauty continued, "Though I don't believe you've been informed on some of the more proper names we...supernaturals...refer to ourselves as. An Old One is, in layman's terms, a vampire. Don't worry, neither you nor the babe are my preferred meal choice." Her smirk allowed a sharp incisor to peak out.

Yassen's growl quieted but not for lack of warning. His body had finally run its course. His knees buckled as his vision blurred viciously. Evee's legs slipped from his grasp slightly causing him to clutch at her more tightly, mindful of his claws, even as he tipped sideways to slam his shoulder into the wall on his right. The cold water that had been partially melted by passing traffic soaked through his jeans causing the chill to bite more deeply into his body. When the vampiress laid a hand on his arm he didn't even have the strength to snarl. The wracking coughs began again and this time they didn't stop; blood splattered the wall he was pressed against with each heave and subconsciously the Russian knew he was going to suffocate if he couldn't calm his breathing soon

But the coughing wouldn't stop. Black spots began dancing before his eyes as blood continued to flow into his lungs and airway and his body tried desperately to force it back out with little success. His grip on the child slipped again and this time he couldn't find the strength to tighten his muscles. Evee was suddenly lifted away from him into the Old One's arms, when Yassen saw this he felt himself relax slightly: she was safe now, he could finally rest... The Russian slipped lower down the wall until he came into full contact with the ground, becoming soaked in the freezing cold liquid in the process even as blood began to drip from his nose and mouth at an accelerated pace. Iraya carefully knelt next the dying dragon; she swept his hair back from his face in a soothing manner before whispering, "Rest now, Yassen Gregorovich; you'll be home when next you wake." The High Lady pressed a gentle, maternal kiss to his forehead before his world faded to darkness.


	20. Chapter 19

**Author's Note**:

Hiya, all! I got into the room I wanted and have the roommates from heaven. All three of them are boys but they are the nicest, cleanest, most attentive college boys I've ever met. That was *ahem* the reason I was carameldansen last chapter. Anyway, Sho-dono and I have sort of put this story on hold – you'll get your updates for a few more weeks before we start hunting for food to feed your ravenous bellies but, we may have had a breakthrough that we'll explore this weekend. So have fun and enjoy! Because once you think these characters have hit rock-bottom, Sho-dono and I start handing out shovels and pick-axes.

*Head is still lying on desk and is still watching Weeds* I have discovered that sometimes it's best to just stop fighting and let the sore and swollen creative pathways heal before forcing anything else through them. Otherwise everything turns to shit. So that is what we shall be doing; resting and healing…and sleeping more than we really should be.

**Chapter 19**

Peng had nearly given up on the search for his grandson after nearly two months of searching; he was close to giving up entirely once Eveleen had disappeared. He was reaching for the scrying mirror to call off the manhunt when a chill aura slid across his senses. Without turning to look he grumbled out a greeting, "Hello, Iraya." Then the scent of his child's blood reached his nostrils. The dragon whirled to stare at the vampire with wild eyes to see his grandson thrown over her slim shoulder and Evee balanced precariously upon her hip. The old man raced to Iraya's side and guided her further into the house to lay him down in his grandson's bed. "Where did you find them?" he asked absentmindedly. They'd moved to Yassen's room and the doctor was taking stock of what was wrong to cause such massive blood loss.

"Moscow, believe it or not." the vampiress stated with a slight huff, "Miserably cold city. There was a reason I always avoided it." Peng wasn't listening; he was much more concerned with the grey pallor of his descendant's skin and the blood drenched clothing to care about the Old One's complaints. Iraya sighed tiredly when she noticed the old man's lack of interest; she shifted the young girl to a more secure grip before releasing a bombshell, "He's dying, Li. You know how rare it is for a dragon to find his or her mate and you know what happens when he or she is rejected by said mate. You can't do anything to save him, old friend." The Asian's only response was a snarl – he couldn't lose his only grandson! "Li," she placed a hand on his shoulder, "stop. You know as well as I that neither of us can keep him alive – that's his mate's decision. You should be talking to the idiot who rejected the boy."

Peng sighed, he knew that what she said was true, but Alexander had given no indication that he was willing to take Yassen back after the way he had been treating Evee. "I don't think he will," the old man muttered sadly. The Sorcerer, in fact, had shown few signs of even being alive; the Brit had withdrawn into himself once more – farther than the times previous. _One step forward and a hundred steps back_, he thought cynically. "Alexander does not respond to anything; I had to install a PICC so he wouldn't starve. I know Alexander loves my grandson but it always seems that some disagreement crops up and he just...withdraws. I had thought they were healing – and that being together was helping – but...I guess they are better at hiding things than I originally thought.

"Be that as it may, the least you can do is talk, maybe seeing his daughter will help," she said kindly as she held Evee out to the old man. Silently Peng gathered the small girl into his arms and carried her away from his grandson; it didn't matter anymore whether he could find the source of the bleeding, if he could get Alex to accept his grandchild once more…that was the only way to save him. When the Asian entered the ex-spy's room the teen was sitting by the window staring outside blankly. "Alexander? Turn your head child and see who I have brought." The blonde didn't respond. The doctor sighed but walked so as to maneuver the girl into the teen's field of vision.

For the first time in two months, Alexander Rider spoke, "Where was she?" It was a whisper and raspy but at least he responded.

"She was in Moscow; apparently, she found Yassen before getting herself into trouble," the dragon paused. Clenching his eyes to hold back his tears he continued, "Yassen is bleeding and I can't stop it. He'll die within hours from blood loss unless something can be done. Tell me, Alexander, did you ever get to the chapter on dragon mating habits?" The Brit shook his head in the negative. "Dragon's have only one mate for life; they can love no other for as long as they live. But, if their mate rejects them, they die. A dragon falls into a deep depression and their body slowly shuts down; the only external symptom is coughing blood."

During the explanation, the last living Rider had stiffened and his eyes had widened; tears began to trail down his cheeks. "My fault," he whimpered.

Peng pressed his lips together until they were nothing more than a thin, pale line, he was so tired of this, "Yes, Alex, it is! And now it's your responsibility to fix it!" He was being cruel, he knew he was, but he was sick of this nonsense.

The youth stood shakily before stumbling to Yassen's room; leaning against the doorway he watched the assassin's heaving chest: Each exhale was marked by a bloody cough that left the man gasping for air on each inhale. Alex pushed himself towards his mate before collapsing next him on the bed. "Please wake up," he sobbed. "Hate me, hurt me, kill me if you want but don't die because of me, Yassen. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I want you as my mate so please wake up." Yassen's pained breathing didn't ease but Alex saw a slight movement behind his eyelids. He tried again to get the older man to respond, "Yassen, please, I'm sorry. Open your eyes, please," he begged. When nothing happened except a more violent coughing fit, the blonde buried his head in the Russian's chest and sobbed.

He could faintly hear the slow, almost lethargic beat of the Russian's heart and the rasp of air being dragged in and out of his lungs. Alex lay there for what felt like ages but could have only been a few minutes when the low lub-dub, lub-dub... stopped.

"Yassen!" The Brit scrambled to find a pulse at the assassin's neck but found not even the faintest beat. Panicking, the untrained Sorcerer scrambled to perform first aid but when the younger dragon's heart failed to beat; he unconsciously poured his magic into the still form praying to all the gods he could think of to let Yassen Gregorovich live.

At the teen's shout, Peng and Iraya had run into the room and when they saw what Alex was trying to do the old dragon shouted, "Alex, stop!" He rushed forward to try and pry the ex-spy away from the Russian's still form, "You'll die if you keep that up!"

The blonde didn't listen and the following power surge sent the Asian hurtling into the wall. The vampiress approached cautiously, "Is this the path you wish to walk?"

"I won't let him die! I had to watch it once before and I'm not gonna let it happen again!" Tears streamed down Alex's face. Strong, slim hands settled on his shoulders and a wave of strength flooded his veins.

The power rushed through him and for the fraction of a second before he lost conscious, Alex heard his mate gasp out, "_Sashka_?"

Yassen could feel nothing but pain, his chest felt like it was on fire and it seemed his heart was trying to burst out of his chest. His eyes flew open and the sight of his beloved greeted him. The eldest dragon rushed to his grandson's side as the High Lady cradled the unconscious youth. "Stay still, child; it is not every day one is brought back from the dead." The doctor quickly checked over the assassin; he was in relatively good condition for meeting death early: Low blood pressure due to low blood volume, a raw throat, and some new features – claws, fangs, a fine dusting of scales on his hands, arms, and around his eyes; nothing major. The most severe damage was the second degree burns on his chest from Alexander's magic.

Yassen dragged a pained breath back into his body and a low whimper slipped from his throat. It felt like he had been crushed by a huge weight that had been removed suddenly. The sound of rushing blood drowned out his grandfather's words. Ignoring the pain and his grandfather's advice, the Russian turned towards the woman holding his mate.

"He wanted you to live more than anything else; I wouldn't have been able to lend him my strength had he even the smallest doubt. He loves you more than anything; take solace in that. Few ever have such devotion from another that only a fool would dare to throw it away."

"He's so pale." Yassen's comment forced a laugh from the High Lady.

"Says the man who makes a corpse appear tan. The boy simply exhausted himself; he'll be fine in a few days but I believe you will have to put up with my presence for some time longer. Li isn't the best person to teach a Sorcerer about magic and control." She smiled and laid Alex on the bed, "Why don't you take a leaf out the idiot's book and rest? No one's in danger of death right now and you'll definitely be better for the sleep."

The vampiress turned to exit when the Russian called out, "Could you bring Eveleen in here? _Sashka_, will worry if he wakes and doesn't know where she is."

She paused, there was a slight hint of contempt in the young man's voice... but it was very faint, almost non-existent, she smiled, "Of course." She brought the little girl and settled her against Alex's side, during the bare seconds she had been gone Yassen's eyes had slipped closed and his breathing, while still somewhat strained, had evened.

The High Lady beckoned the doctor away, a suggestive smile tucked into the corner of her lips. Peng rolled his eyes and sighed before following her out. The dragon followed the vampire down to the lower levels of the manor house and into the kitchen where she indicated for him to sit at the table. The Old One flitted about the large kitchen making them both some tea and sandwiches. "You're much too tense, Li, when was the last time you took a proper vacation?" she teased.

"Ira, don't patronize me. My grandson nearly died and apparently two of my most beloved people are not nearly as mentally sound as they led me to believe. I have to start again on both of them and they were already fighting me on it the first time. And you want me to take a vacation?" He was growling towards the end.

"You don't have to do it alone you know." She sat down primly and crossed her legs before serving the tea to her long time friend. "I could help you. It's been a long time since I've had a student as promising as your little Alexander."

Peng sipped his tea before pinching the bridge of his nose, "Is he really that promising a student?"

"When was the last time you encountered a child with that much power?"

He snorted, "My memory is good but not that good. His grandmother was the last one with any power and she barely ranked as a hedge witch." The doctor leaned back, "He really managed to raise the dead? That's a rhetorical question, Ira." He sent her a pointed look.

The vampiress just smiled and leaned back in her chair. "So you're admitting to succumbing to senior moments?"

"Of course that would be the only thing in my monologue you would comment on."

Of course, my dear. Now, I have to say, you're grandson? Acts exactly like you used to."

"I was never like that!"

"Oh yes you were! Remember that little Paris wench you fell head over heels in lust for? Or that nun? Sorry to say but until you settled you were as wild as the elders made you out to be!"

"You're making me out to be some sort of man-whore. I wasn't ever that wild – or promiscuous." The old man was starting to look a little irritated.

Iraya raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow at him, "And what of your time in Ireland?"

He dropped his head into his hands and groaned, "Iraya, sister of my heart, I was young, the liquor was unbelievably strong, and You. Were. Right. There. With. Me."

She shrugged dismissively, "I wasn't chased away from every bonfire I approached; though the drink and the men were indeed enjoyable."

"Do you have any modesty?" He was holding back a smirk; he'd forgotten how fun bantering with her was.

"Very little, same as you." She smiled full on and reached out to pat Peng's hand gently, "You're getting old, but that doesn't mean you're going to be getting rid of me. Now, back to your darling children: When is your little girl due for pups?"

"Around late May or early June; even magic isn't exact enough to figure out specifics. Have you found anyone to settle down with?"

She waved her hand vaguely, "Not as of yet. It seems that most men have forgotten how to properly treat a lady."

"It's a different time and it's getting late. Let's resume this in the morning; you'll be able to needle my granddaughter about her sex life then." He grinned conspiratorially, "She gets testy over the most benign insinuations; I think you'll enjoy teasing her." The ancient dragon held out his arm patiently and waited for his age old friend to accept his invitation.

"I'm glad time hasn't erased your manners," she teased while he rolled his eyes at her antics and led her to her room.

"Good night, irritating woman."

"Good night, aggravating man."

The next morning found Peng sitting back at the old wooden table shoved in the corner of the kitchen staring contemplatively at his half-eaten bagel. He had already been up to check on Yassen and Alex, the younger of the two had been awake and crying again, his arms wrapped around Evee and head resting on the Russian's chest. A non-interrogation had procured the simple but illogical answer of: "Should have been me and not him." All of the dragon's attempts afterwards yielded nothing else.

As for his grandson, the young dragon was doing slightly better, he was no longer bleeding, but the intense blood loss and sudden shock back to life had taken a great toll on the man. He was weak, heart only remaining functioning because of the magic that still coursed through his veins; it would be a very long time before Yassen would be in any condition to move about and even longer before he could start his training again.

Slim arms wrapping loosely wrapping around his neck startled him from his musing. "You shouldn't try to murder bagels with your eyes; it's bad for your digestion," came the smirking comment from, in Peng's opinion, the most irritating woman in any universe.

"Didn't your mother teach you not sneak up on people?" he snarked back.

"No need to be mean. What has your knickers in a twist?"

"My grandson is barely alive, Yessenia is feeling more exhaustion than she should, and Alexander is still refusing to eat and is depressed but hiding why. I noticed more self-inflicted lacerations on his arms and I am still unable to find whatever he is using. Life is just peachy this morning!" He was hunching and growling lowly by the time he finished.

Iraya hummed in understanding before leaving her old friend to his scowling, she had a few choice words to give her new student and the Old One doubted he wanted to hear them. When she entered Yassen's bedroom and saw the trio together on the queen bed her un-beating heart softened and cracked. It was the sweetest but saddest thing the vampiress had seen in centuries. Silently she approached and gazed down at the dragon, she could see the slight twitch that passed through him whenever his muscles were given a shock of power to keep his heart beating; he would be exhausted before long and would need something to eat so his body could truly begin healing. She then turned her eyes to Alex and frowned, she could smell the blood from his injuries and she had a good idea as to where he was hiding his precious blades.

"Can you stand, Alexander?" she asked.

"Yes," he whispered back.

"Then get up and follow me; if you don't...well, you can fill in the blank."

She left the room only to enter a vacant one that appeared to be a sewing room long since unused; the younger Brit followed shortly after.

"What is it?"

The red-haired woman held out her hand impatiently, "All of them – and I mean all of them – now. I know you have five razor blades on you: One in your mouth, one buried in each forearm, and one buried in each thigh. You will not be harming yourself from now on; I will Turn you if you try for suicide one more time. Am I clear?" Her tone and posture gave off a 'don't argue with me or there will be dire consequences' vibe. Alex stared at her in shock, she couldn't possibly know, but she had identified each of his hiding places easily. Slowly he removed each blade and handed them over unhappily, those were the last of the razors left in the house; Dr. Peng had made sure of it early on.

"Why do you care?" Iraya closed her eyes and asked every deity she could think of for patience. _He's broken, severely depressed, and has zero self-worth/self-confidence; don't bite his head off_, she reminded herself.

"You're my student and Li is very dear to me. If you die he will grieve and Yassen will probably end his life to be with you in the afterlife; so Li will have to mourn twice. Do you understand? Dragons only love once and they can choose no other mate; most aren't like Li and able to survive the death of a mate and Yassen, regardless of physical or mental prowess, doesn't have as strong a will as his grandfather." The blond slumped onto a chair and buried his head in his hands, crying once more. She knelt before him and asked, "Tell me everything."

Alex's sobs continued as if he hadn't heard the older woman; he rocked back and forth in the small straight backed chair as he continued to show his grief. Iraya waited patiently but after a few minutes she realized that the child had no intention of speaking. "Tell me, child." Her patience was running thin. After another few moments she snarled and shouted, "CHILD! IF YOU CONTINUE TO ACT LIKE THIS I SHALL THROW YOU OVER MY KNEE AND GIVE YOU SOMETHING REAL TO CRY ABOUT!" Harsh? Yes. Did it get Alexander's attention? Yes. Worth it? Of course.

Though the response wasn't something she expected and negated any positive feelings she garnered from her threat: Alex's harsh sobs became mixed with hysterical laughter, "You think a spanking would make me cry? Really? Truly?" She could see agony and self-hatred in his eyes when he looked up, "You want to know what happened? You sure?"

She settled back on her heels and opened her arms wide, "Lay it on me, kid."

And so he did. He told her all about how Alan Blunt shanghaied him into becoming a teen spy, how he watched Yassen die on Air Force One, how he held Sabina Pleasure in his arms as she bled to death, of when Jack was killed so close to getting custody. Of when Blunt had sent him to infiltrate a slave trading ring where he wound up a slave to a sadistic shape-shifter posing as one of his comrades for a year of constant torture and rape, of it being shot up with drugs while the monster drilled into him that he was nothing but a whore good only for a quick fuck. Of when Blunt had shot him once he'd outlived his usefulness, of all that had happened and been revealed after the Russian had saved him, of how he loved his daughter, and how Yassen was the only man he'd ever wanted but could never be with because no one could ever love a dirty whore like him.

Through it all Iraya listened with a blank mask pulled over her features: She understood what Alex's life had been now, she understood why he was the way he was, and she knew how to help. "The person who once was no longer exists."

Alex stared at her as if she had grown a second and then a third head, "What?"

"Alexander, that teen spy you were is gone; all that's left is the broken man before me. I and others can spout psychological mumbo-jumbo at you until we're blue in the face and it won't give you back what you've lost. I could easily tell you to suck it up but that would be as helpful if I coddled you like Li does. I and others can tell you all manner of things but, ultimately, it would go in one ear and out the other and nothing will have changed.

"What I **can** do is teach you how to live as you are now; to cope with the memories and darkness and to, essentially, function as a human being once more. I promise I'll help you get back on your feet but most of the work is on you; you have to want to be stronger, you have to want to live. Do you have something worth living for?"

It took a moment for the blonde to answer; thoughts were racing through is mind faster than he could understand but he nodded in the end.

"Then what is it?" she asked, lifting the teen's head with a hand on his cheek.

"Yassen." A slight smile graced his lips and a new light glimmered in his previously dull eyes.

"Then let's begin."


	21. Chapter 20

**Author's Note**:

Well, I'm officially tired. I've had four straight days of headaches/migraines and all I really want to do is sleep…but there's that pile of homework glaring at me in the corner. It keeps grumbling about wanting to be finished…and that sounded crazy. I think I overdosed on painkillers again or it could be my 'script for my migraines making me high…I'm going to go lay down. TheHenna will wake me when it's time for cooking dinner…yes, TheHenna will wake me…

*Has finished all five seasons of Weeds (GO SHANE!(if you have seen the final scene from the finale of season five you will know why I said that)) and have moved onto Jeeves & Wooster* I'm slowly recuperating, I can now force the occasional interesting insight out and it actually sounds good but things probably won't truly pick up until after Spring Break; but don't worry, we have a few more chapters to go before our backlog runs dry. *Looks up at co-authoress' pathetic form; gets green tea and chocolate* Now to nurse this poor schmuck back to life…

**Chapter 20**

_Waking up is becoming something of a painful experience_, mused Yassen as all the aches in his body had began clamoring for his attention the moment he woke up. His chest stung, his spine felt as if it had been twisted out of place, and there was a weight on his left shoulder that was numbing his arm and he knew as soon as it moved it was going to hurt like a bitch. Might as well see what it was then. Turning his head revealed a mop of gold hair and his mate's face relaxed in a peaceful sleep; craning his neck he saw Eveleen curled into Alex's back, also fast asleep. Well that explained a lot; he had become his mate's pillow. Yassen sighed slightly and twisted to ease the discomfort in his back without dislodging his lover. It helped, but not by much.

It had managed, however, to nudge the young blonde into waking. He scrunched his eyes before gently shifting onto his elbow. The Russian feigned slumber to watch how the Brit acted; he was pleasantly surprised to feel his mate kiss his cheek before whispering, "Wake up soon."

Yassen's lip twitched slightly as he opened his eyes, "Morning," he muttered, voice rough from disuse.

"Yassen?" Alex's voice was tinged with a hopeful awe. Just as the assassin was about to respond he was all but pounced on by his over-eager mate. Already grunting in pain, he didn't expect a second weight to land on him when the six-year-old joined her 'mother'; apparently her fear of him wasn't great enough to overcome her joy at seeing her rescuer alive.

The Russian flailed his one working arm slightly before pressing at Alex's shoulder, "Can't... breathe," he wheezed as the combined weight of the pair pressed down against him.

"Sorry, love," he beamed sweetly, "we've just been so worried. I was scared that whatever I'd done would somehow wear off and I'd lose you." Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes, "Don't you ever, ever do that again." The droplets made trails down his cheeks and he brought his hands up to wipe them away, "I can't lose you, Yassen. Watching you die once was torture; I can't go through that again. Please don't ever do something like that again; promise that if and when we fight you won't run away – we'll talk it out after we calm down but don't...just don't scare me like that again." He hiccupped and knew he was starting to sound childish but he couldn't help it; Yassen was...Yassen was his mate regardless of any disagreement.

The assassin reached up and cupped his lover's cheek gently, "Shh, Alex, I'm sorry for the way I acted and I swear I won't leave you again, shhh." He drew Alex down so that the teen was once more resting atop his body; head nestled comfortably in the curve of the Russian's neck. His left arm was finally beginning to regain feeling and he dragged it up to card his fingers through the soft golden hair, waiting for his mate to calm down. Silently, Yassen glanced to his left where Evee had settled after following her 'mother's example and getting off of the older man, with a small sigh the pale haired man lifted his arm in offering to her, waiting patiently for her to accept the invitation. She gave him a thousand watt smile before cuddling into his side; he would always scare her but he still saved her and that mattered more. The teen gazed down at the picture his family – his family! – made and a gentle, maternal expression softened his features; he caught the assassin's stare and smiled sweetly before mouthing a 'thank you'.

Unknown to the trio they were being observed from the doorway; Peng and Iraya watched as the trio slipped slowly back to sleep. "Told you it would work," the vampiress hissed at the dragon. She held out her hand; the Asian reached into his pocket to pull out a handful of his own colorful scales only to drop them in his hand. "A pleasure doing business with you, handsome."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, keep talking like that and I may just take my scales back. Or shave your head while you sleep," the old man threatened.

"Hey, you lost the bet; vampire hair, however wonderful for permanent tracking spells, is no excuse to scalp me because you aren't nearly as good a judge of people as you used to be." She grinned, a fang peaking out, before continuing, "Your scales will do wonders for the potions used to make **permanent tracking amulets**."

Peng grumbled unhappily, "You will of course be giving me one of them."

"Why do you want one? I'm giving one to Alexander, Yassen, Yessenia, Wolf – whenever he returns – and Eveleen. If it's one of them you're worrying about: Don't."

"If you're giving one to my grandson could you do me the favor of sewing it inside so he cannot remove it?"

She giggled femininely, "I was planning to make his a tattoo on his buttocks."

Peng snorted at the image that produced, "Good luck holding him down!"

"Is that a challenge? Perhaps a dragon on his shoulders would be better – a blue Chinese _Lóng_."

"I still say good luck at holding him down, but, ah, if you do manage it, try it in white with gold. That way we can link it to Alex and Eveleen at the same time."

The Old One tilted her head to the side, "That has merit; shall we make a new bet? A hundred scales against a hundred hairs for me branding your grandson?"

"Whomever manages to get it done wins?"

"No, the bet is whether or not I can get a tattoo with an imbedded tracking spell on him."

"And if you fail? How are we going to get it on him then?" Peng crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at the woman.

"If I fail, you win the bet and get my hair to make a permanent tracking spell of your own. Then it's up to you to get him to wear it."

"Deal." The dragon held out his hand and the vampiress accepted. The bet was on!

Only a few hours later had the previously happy High Lady using curses that would make even the most veteran Red Light District prostitute blush. She was pacing enough to wear a hole in the floor – literally, the wood overlying the stone floor was worn through – and the air about her was crackling with wild dark magic. Normally, Dr. Li Peng would have made his old friend sit and tell him what was causing her rage but he already knew what had happened and was too busy enjoying the show.

It was only when Alex, passing through to the library for a book to read – his insomnia had hit mid-sleep and he had no desire to wake his mate with his problems – was nearly struck by a wayward bolt of black lightning that the elderly dragon put a stop to her ranting. "Ira, sit before you manage to hurt some." Snarling, she slumped gracefully onto a loveseat and kicked her feet over the side to lie length-wise upon the cushions.

"Could one of you please explain what's going on?" the teen asked warily; he would rather not incur his teacher's wrath if possible.

"Iraya may be THE High Lady but she still has to report to the Vampire Council every so often. She also has to justify why she does things – much like any ruler in a semi-democratic government. She has neglected to explain why she is here and the Council has sent a letter of summons," the Asian explained.

"I'm to appear before them tomorrow to elucidate exactly why I must continue to be absent from court. That means I have to appoint a proxy and tell them that I have student and then deal with the political minefield that that bombshell will create. I swear! There weren't nearly as many vipers amongst the birds when I built the bloody thing!" She turned to face her Apprentice fully, "I'll be back in a few days so I expect you not to have slacked in the interim. Don't be surprised if you see an increase of correspondence between me and my proxy upon my return." And she left in a haze of shadow-like mist.

A week later had Yassen able to move short distances and irritated at being treated like an invalid. The only special treatment he enjoyed was his angel lavishing him with affection and little Evee sneaking him the tastier foods his grandfather had forbidden him from eating.

It was during one of his short excursions that Iraya approached him with a mischievous glint in her eye. "Greetings, hatchling, how goes your recovery?"

Yassen's hackles rose, she was up to something. "Fine," he stated cautiously, edging away from her slightly.

"I need you to help me with something; it won't take long and it's just a little thing."

The assassin's eyes narrowed; definitely up to something, he decided. "I apologize, Iraya, but I cannot assist you today."

"Oh?" she queried, her grin widening. "That's too bad; Alexander and Yessenia had assured me you wanted to do something than laze about in forced bed rest. I guess I'll just have to tell Li that you aren't healing as well as he hoped and need several weeks added." She shrugged coyly, turning to walk out the room but stopped at the doorway to say one more thing, "And here I was going to tell dear Li that you were much better and could be let off a week or so early – but, since you're obviously too tired..."

_Damned manipulative WENCH! _"Hold up," the Russian called out, "what was it you needed help with?" _I'm going to regret this._

_Hook, line, and sinker_, she thought merrily. "All you have to do is lie down and not scream."

Yassen stared at her, "You're joking, right?"

"No. Look, I could easily manipulate you into doing what I want – you're not nearly as clever as you think you are – but I think you value bluntness more than a good trick. So, here's the situation: You have no piercings and you don't wear jewelry. The only way I'm getting a permanent tracking spell on you to avoid incidents like the most recent fiasco is a tattoo. Now, I've a few you can pick from but, one way or another, you're getting a tattoo with a permanent tracking spell imbedded in it."

A deep frown crossed Yassen's face, "Forget it."

The vampiress' posture shifted, "Is that your final answer?"

The assassin backed away from the female carefully, he had no intention of letting her near him with a needle, no way no how. He knew he would regret his actions later but right now he didn't really care about anything other than keeping as much distance between him and her as was possible. With a sudden burst of movement – and **pain** – Yassen turned on his heel and leaped for the stairs. Only to ungracefully trip and be dragged back into the room by his ankle. He struggled but that desperate attempt at escape had cost him. _Damn it all to hell..._

With a final burst of strength the Russian dragged in a deep breath... and yelled, "ALEX!"

The blonde rushed into the room half-panicked. He paused before glaring menacingly at the High Lady, "Leave now and I won't kill you."

"Little Alex," Iraya started charmingly even as she tried to tug the reluctant assassin's fingers free of the doorjamb, "I'm merely trying to bestow upon your mate a tracking spell but as you can see. He's. Being. Difficult!"

"Put. Him. Down. Now." She could see the saber he'd hidden behind his back now and gulped; she'd never tested her immortality against a beheading.

"Very well." She cast a withering glare at the man on the floor before sweeping gracefully out of the room.

Yassen pulled himself into a sitting position and held out an arm for Alex. "Thank you," he muttered.

"Don't thank me; you're getting the tattoo."

The Russian dropped his arm and gave his mate a baleful look. "I would really rather just get a piercing."

"You'd remove it if you wanted to hide; no matter how desperate to you are you won't remove a large chunk of skin just to keep Dr. Peng from finding you. You're getting the tattoo; lie down on the couch and don't scream."

The older man groaned unhappily, he did NOT want the tattoo, but his mate wasn't giving him a choice in the matter and he could see that. Slowly the assassin pulled himself carefully to his feet, mindful of his earlier escape attempt, and shuffled over the couch, stripping off his shirt.

The Brit carefully set the bottles of ink, the needle, and the antiseptic on the table next to the couch. "Look through these and choose the one you want." He handed the Russian a sketch pad with a half dozen different dragon designs; Yassen gracefully slumped and flipped through the drawings.

He continued to scan each image wearily; they were all interesting but he didn't like any of them enough to warrant imprinting it on his skin. When he reached the last page he paused, the main area of the paper was covered in a complex, four-toed Chinese _Lóng_ with different colored orbs clutched in its claws but up in the right hand corner of the page was a small, rough sketch of what appeared to be a half-breed mix of an Asian and European dragon curled carefully around a single silver egg. "This one," the Russian said firmly, tapping the small image.

Alex craned his neck to see what his mate was pointing to. "You sure?"

"If I absolutely have to have the damn thing done, then yes."

The ex-spy tore out the page and began to sketch a larger version of the half-breed; he changed the coloring slightly to white with blue edging and a gold instead of silver egg. "Does this still work?" The other nodded before rolling onto his stomach, presenting his mate with a clear view of his shoulder-blades. "Have at," he muttered unhappily.

It only took three hours; three hours in which Yassen cursed every god he could think of and berated himself for his inability to refuse Alexander Rider. It wasn't that getting the tattoo was overly painful, he'd suffered worse during his training with SCORPIA; it was the principle of the act. Of being marked permanently. It went against every lesson he'd been taught not only by the trainers on Malogosto but also by John Rider. But there was no turning back now; as the low buzz of the needle stopped Yassen spoke, "Finished?" His mate ran soothing hands down his lower back as if knowing the assassin's troubling thoughts.

"I'm done; you shouldn't be so tense about this. You've been marked before," he murmured, tracing scars old and new.

"Scars fade over time. This won't."

"Some scars don't," was the quiet response.

Yassen remained quiet for a few moments as Alex continued to explore the lattice work of scars that covered his back, lulling him into a slight doze. When the blonde's fingers paused over his lower spine the assassin glanced over his shoulder at his mate. "Where did you get this one?" The youth rubbed along a long, thin, white line that stretched across the width of the Russian's back.

Yassen stilled at his love's touch, "Torture training," he stated simply.

"You're lying to me."

"No, it's the truth. The last thing SCORPIA teaches its students is how to resist giving information under torture. Back then they believed demonstration to be the best way for us to learn."

"That part is true but this scar isn't from torture training. Don't lie to me, Yassen."

The Russian sighed at his mate's perceptiveness. "There was an instructor at the time that...disliked me. He decided it would be interesting to see how many strokes from a saw it took to sever my spine."

"Half-truths again; tell me everything."

Yassen rolled onto his side and looked silently at Alex. The teen's attention was completely focused on him; there was no way he could avoid it. "The instructor disliked me, as I said, because of my age. I was a nineteen year old going through a class with men and women twice my age who had taken twice as long to finish the same training I went through – including him. He thought I was mocking him with every breath I took because I was already considered to be the top of my...well, I suppose you would call the teams we were in classes, but moving on. He took offense and when the last lessons were assigned he requested me. The rest is as I said."

"There's more to it than that. This scar isn't the only mark he left on you, is it?" The youth's eyes were distant; as if they were gazing through the Russian and into someplace in the distant past.

"There aren't any other scars from him." He knew that wasn't what his angel meant but there were some things he didn't ever want to talk about and that even his grandfather had never managed to wrangle out of him.

"That wasn't what I meant. This scar is like this one," he traced one on the assassin's right shoulder, "and this one," left hip, "and this one," lower stomach, "and this one here," right pectoral.

Yassen remained silent at Alex's question. He had absolutely no intention of speaking of **those** scars ever again.

The teen leaned down so he lay on the Russian's shoulder and his hand above Yassen's heart. He shifted so he could look dragon in the eye, "You know all that has happened to me and you know from experience that talking helps. You won't tell Dr. Peng so tell me."

The Russian shook his head, "No, _Sashka_, I received these marks over twenty years ago and I have dealt with them in my own way. I refuse to dwell on them any longer. It would be a waste of time." The only response from the Sorcerer was an incredulous look as if he were saying 'really?' only with more sarcasm. The assassin gazed blankly back at him, waiting to see what he would do.

Alex's eyes shuttered half-closed as a glow started to emit from them; he pressed his forward head against the killer, "Please."

Yassen shifted and wrapped an arm around Alex's waist before leaning forward and placing a gentle kiss in the middle of his forehead. "No," he said simply as he rose from the couch. The Brit lowered his head and rubbed at his eyes; he already knew what had happened to his mate he just wanted Yassen to trust him enough to tell him.

Yassen glanced over his shoulder, "Are you going to join me?" There was nothing suggestive in his voice but it still sent shivers down the teen's spine. The youth followed, a heat he hadn't felt in over a year simmering in his belly; he'd not told Dr. Peng or his teacher about his...urges. He could ignore them in the beginning but they were getting stronger with each passing day and even though he was scared...he was getting desperate for his mate to touch him in a way that wasn't platonic.

Crawling into the large bed the assassin was careful to keep pressure off his newly adorned tattoo and he settled on his side, waiting for Alex to join him. He was tired, his recovery was taking longer than he wanted it to and he was growing aggravated at his weakness. It was especially infuriating when the blonde was emitting the most tantalizing aroma; all he wanted was to have his wicked way with the Brit but Alex had to make the first move...Once Alex settled, curled against his love's chest, he returned to tracing the old scars that covered the Russian's body, lulling the assassin into yet another doze.

He was startled out of his light nap by teardrops on shoulder.

"_Sashka_? What's wrong?" Yassen lifted his hand and rested it lightly against Alex's golden hair.

"It's nothing," he murmured, wiping at his eyes roughly. "Don't worry about it, Yassen; I'm just being stupid."

"Now look who's telling lies and half-truths." The Russian lifted himself onto his elbow and looked down at the ex-spy. "What is wrong, love?"

The gold-eyed male bit his lip viciously, "I'm...afraid."

The dragon frowned at that. What could he possibly be afraid of? "Of what?" he prompted softly. His mate couldn't meet his eyes and was blushing under the tears. "Alex?"

"I haven't felt anything in over a year and now..."

Yassen cocked his head in confusion. _Feel? What in the world is he – OH!_ The assassin's eyes widened in surprise as he realized exactly what his mate meant. He cautiously reached out a hand to cup Alex's face, "Why does being aroused frighten you, _Ангел мой_?"

The teen pressed against the warm palm that caressed his skin before answering, "That... creature twisted my perceptions. Made me enjoy what it was doing to me. I just... don't want that to still be the case." He was so ashamed of that; of enjoying that thing raping him and learning to like the pain. He didn't want to be that whore but...

"Don't finish that thought, my own." Yassen murmured as he leaned down to place a loving but chaste kiss against Alex's lips.

"But–!" The assassin cut him off even as the tears made rivers down the teen's face.

"Shhhhh..." The blue-eyed man pulled his mate into his arms and placed gentle, feather-light kisses wherever he could reach, "It won't be like that with us, little Alex; you aren't what the monster made you believe." Slim fingers flexed and curled against the Russian's chest as the smaller body in his grasp began to shake with renewed sobs.

After several minutes, Alex finally calmed. "Thank you, Yassen. I don't know what I'd do without you," he spoke softly. Yassen smiled at his lover as he ran his fingers slowly through longish golden hair.

"Do you have any idea why I'm starting to feel these...urges again?" the youth asked, face buried in the assassin's firm chest to hide his embarrassment.

"You're probably still adjusting to your awakened blood, same as me, except," the assassin paused, choosing his next words very carefully, "your body hadn't finished growing even before that, so..." he trailed off at the indignant look Alex was giving him.

A knock on the door saved the Russian from whatever wrath he'd just incurred from his mate. "Grandson, are you–" The old dragon noticed the tattoo on the younger _lóng's_ back and scrunched his face as if he'd swallowed a lemon.

Yassen blinked at his grandfather, silently wondering if everyone had gone insane. "What?"

"Iraya wasn't the one who gave him the tattoo; I was." He sent a glare at his mate before turning his full attention to the Asian, "Can you explain why I have..." He couldn't say it; it was too mortifying to ask why he'd been craving sex in increasing measure over the last few days.

The Russian looked back and forth between the other two before deciding he was probably better off not knowing. Peng however seemed to take the news with a certain, constrained joy. "Urges for sexual release?" Peng finished for the teen.

"Yes," he mumbled pathetically. "Why am I having them after a year and a half of feeling, well, nothing?"

Peng smiled comfortingly before sitting down on the edge of the bed behind his descendant's knees so that he could look them both in the face before he began his explanation, "It's called a heat, Alexander. Much like animals, submissive male Sorcerers go through a fertility cycle called a heat where, during that time, they are able to conceive a child. You went through one earlier in the year, Alexander; you threw yourself at Yassen during dinner, remember?" At the twin blank stares the old dragon received he figured that to be a 'no'... or they were too shocked by this information to respond. "I'm guessing no..."

"No, no, I remember but...That was my heat? I-I just thought that it was my depravity after...I just thought...I just thought it was my being a whore." Tears fell down his cheeks once more as he continued brokenly, "I couldn't think and pain was the only thing that made the urges stop..."

Alex was startled slightly when he felt strong, gentle fingers brush over his cheeks, clearing away his tears. He curled more fully against Yassen's body, seeking warmth and reassurance. Peng continued softly, "I know, child. That's why I tried to keep the two of you separate; at the time, I feared something... unfortunate would happen." The assassin continued to comfort his mate but a small smirk pulled at his lips; his angel was willing and waiting for him, all that he needed now was for his body to heal – hopefully before the Brit's fertility cycle ended. A cool hand pressing against his back startled the Russian from his thoughts and he turned to look at his grandfather curiously. "Child, perhaps you should consult with Alexander before continuing down that vein of thought," the Chinese man intoned firmly while leveling a pointed glare at the Russian.

Yassen frowned at the old dragon before conceding to his elder's wise advice, he didn't want to force anything upon his mate that he wouldn't be ready for. The assassin turned away from the elder in a firm dismissal only to wince in pain as Peng tapped his new tattoo. "He did a good job. Remember what I said Yassen Gregorovich," he reminded before standing and finally leaving the pair in peace.


	22. Chapter 21

**Author's Note**:

*gives teary-eyed look* I spend almost two weeks being half-dead and migraine riddled and only one person reviews the last chapter…that makes me very sad. I love hearing what all of you say and to only have one of you speak…that is just very sad. So very sad…

*Wipes smoke stained hands on jeans and glares at readers* I know for a fact that more than one person read the last chapter but if this lack of response continues we may just stop updating as frequently as we have been and I don't think you want us to do that now do you?

Oh and one more thing: My b-day's next Thursday so if I don't have anything to say next weekend it's because I will be cruising down the main drag at Bike Week! Sho-dono OUT!

**Chapter 21**

Breakfast the next morning was an...interesting affair. It firmly proved that everyone in the household was some kind of insane. Yassen and Alex observed the other three in amusement. Iraya wasn't awake, her head kept dipping down towards her plate even as she tried to eat the pancakes and sausage, but her head continued to snap back up before her hair ever managed to touch the syrup covered treats. Kia on the other hand was slowly and systematically murdering and then disemboweling her meal, with much cursing and ugly looks abound. Scarily, Li Peng and Eveleen were chipper and perkily planning the day's schedule; no one should be that happy at seven in the morning.

The Russian was taking it all in stride but the constant chatter and his slow recovery were beginning to wear on his nerves. He leaned down and whispered in the teen's ear, "As soon as this is over I'm hiding in the library. Care to join me?"

"Certainly, but we should raid the kitchen first so we can lock the door," the youth conspiratorially murmured back.

The snort of laughter and playful grin that stretched across the assassin's face drew Peng's attention to the conspiring pair. "Something the two of you would like to share with the rest of the table?"

Like naughty school children, they quickly shook their heads before replying in sync, "No, sir." The dragon rolled his eyes at their antics; well, so long as they didn't do anything overly foolhardy he didn't see any harm in letting them do as they wished. After the meal was finished, the group split ways to do as they wished: Iraya to her bed for another few hours of sleep, Kia to the nursery adjoined to her room, Evee and the doctor to the main study for the child's lessons, and Yassen and Alex to the kitchen for a quick food stop before making their way to the library for some quiet time.

When the pair finally arrived at the third floor library Yassen was about ready to drop from exhaustion. He stumbled over to one of the overstuffed armchairs that were set near the window but could not be seen from outside; old habits died hard. Alex followed after setting the container of food in the mini-fridge someone had thoughtfully installed at some point in the past, and calmly straddled his lover. The Russian loosely looped his arms around the blonde; he pulled the youth gently closer so he could bury his face in the Brit's neck. God, that scent was heavenly!

Alex slid his hands over the killer's head and shoulders, pressing gently, trying to get the tensed muscles to relax. When the pale-eyed man lifted his face from his mate's neck the teen leaned down and captured the other's lips. Yassen had been accused of many things over his lifetime; being a fool who asked stupid questions was not one of them. He nipped lightly on the younger male's bottom lip; a hint for his angel to allow him in. Alex took it with gusto. He wasn't as experienced as the older man but he made up for his sloppiness with energy and enthusiasm. He opened his mouth to let his lover in willingly and felt the other's tongue slip in to slide against his own.

When they finally parted for air, the dragon immediately left a trail of kisses down to where the ex-spy's shoulder met this neck; there he nibbled, sucked, and bit though never hard enough to draw blood. Alex groaned at the attention his lover was paying to the area and tilted his head to give him better access even as he tangled his fingers in the soft near-white locks of the assassin's hair. "You can bite harder, Dragon," the teen gasped out. The _lóng_ stiffened instantly and moved away from his mate's neck; Alex moaned at the loss of attention.

"If I bite any harder, love, I would hurt you," Yassen murmured, barely loud enough for Alex to hear.

"Then hurt me; even before...even before I liked a little pain. Please?" the blonde begged breathlessly, his face flushed with ardor and his gold eyes glowing hypnotically. The dragon growled slightly as he pressed his lips back to the spot he'd been worrying roughly. He'd just opened his mouth to do as his mate wished when a pounding on the door distracted them both.

The pounding came again, "Cousin? I know you're in there! Open up!"

"Go away, Yessenia! Your nose is sharp enough to know what's going on in here!" he snarled back. Was everyone in this household out to stop him from being alone with his mate?

"And that's exactly why I'm here!" she called back through the door, annoyance giving her words a sharp bite.

He growled and was half a second from tearing his cousin a new one when Alex spoke, "Yessenia Lacramioara Lunascurtare, we aren't going to have sex! All we want is some time alone to bond. In case you've forgotten, the reason you had a chance to mate Wolf was because Yassen covered for you. Return the courtesy and leave us in peace!" The dragon could feel his mate tremble in rage; it seemed even the last Rider was at his wit's end with everyone's antics. There was nothing but silence from the loup-garou and Yassen's jaw dropped open in a silent laugh. On the other side of the door Kia's lips had pulled back and she was about to break the doors down to get back at the little brat before she finally got her temper under control. With a huff she turned on her heel and waddled away, perhaps a walk outside would calm her.

The she-wolf could hear Alex's moan from down the hall. _Not having sex, my ass!_, she thought angrily. She knew she was being a bitch for wont of a better word; Kia knew that her Alpha and her pack-mate needed this – that Alex needed it to become comfortable with intimacy again – but she couldn't help it. Her mate had had to return to MI6 only a few weeks after their first mating and she was carrying his children – it wasn't fair!

Then again, perhaps she was being too hard on the pair; they had been together for nearly half a year without being able to do anything even close to intimate. She growled low in her throat and immediately regretted it as the fetuses within her shifted, pressing uncomfortably against her innards. She had read in a book somewhere that she would eventually get used to it but that didn't stop her from wishing the little things would get off her bladder every once in a while.

She made a quick stop to her room for her warmest coat before continuing into the chill winter; it was New Year's Eve and extremely cold in Romania. Christmas had passed as a quiet affair; between Alex's issues and the fright the younger dragon had given them, there wasn't much of a festive mood. When she stepped out into the cold crisp air she glanced up at the low gray clouds that promised snow and sighed, she missed her lover. Sure he had only been around for a couple of weeks but that period of time had been the happiest of her life. She scrunched her nose up in irritation, he wasn't there so there was no use whining, with determined steps (waddles) she made her way to the path that meandered down the mountain side. Eventually it let out about a mile away from the village but it would take several hours of determined walking to get there, the loup-garou had no intention of going that far; she knew of a clearing a few miles away that would be a lovely place to sit and rest for a while.

It was a wonderful walk; the trees without leaves lining her trail, the white landscape, and utter quiet made for beautiful winter wonderland. Kia just wished her mate was there to enjoy it with her. "Argh!" she screeched, startling a flock birds too foolish to leave for warmer climes. She slapped her face before setting off at fast march, grumbling a mantra about not needing mates that weren't there when needed under her breath. When she finally reached the clearing instead of sitting down and resting as she had originally planned the she-wolf began pacing across the frozen ground intent on continuing on even if she reached the village when she heard voices. It sounded like a pair of men arguing, and one of them sounded very much like her absent baby-daddy. With a grin that would send Satan himself running for cover, she situated herself just out of sight of the final leg of the path. There was a small but steep incline right before the clearing and she had every intention of using it to her advantage.

Wolf entered the clearing and instead of checking his surroundings for possible danger he turned around and started yelling at Fox once more. At least, that's what he had planned on doing until a soft, angry, feminine voice stopped him, "Congratulations. It's twins."

"Huh?" was his very stupid and very wrong response.

"It's twins; you knocked me up with twins before you left, you irresponsible idiot," the voice growled out.

"Kia?" he queried; figuratively crossing his fingers and hoping she was joking.

"Yes?" she replied snarkily, stepping out into view; her rounded belly proving she was, indeed, pregnant.

Wolf's very brave and intelligent response was to promptly faint.

Down below the rest of K-unit plus two agents looked up at the loud thud from above them. "Wolf?" Fox called, when he got no response he tried again except instead of their leader appearing at the edge of the clearing it was Kia... decidedly larger than she was several months ago.

"Hey, Fox; it's been a while," she called out sweetly; her mate fainting brought a smile to her face.

Fox, Eagle, Snake, and Crawley stared at her, stunned, while Mrs. Jones (for that was who the second agent was) simply frowned.

Eagle snickered, "Well, it looks like you two got busy." He burst out laughing; Snake, Fox, and Crawley joining him in his mirth shortly after.

She hummed lightly at that, "Mmmm, yes. Perhaps you all would be dears then and carry your unconscious leader back to the house? It's almost lunchtime." With that said she turned her back on them and shuffled over to the other side of the clearing, waiting.

"Grandfather, we have guests and one of them is demanding to see the love birds!" Kia called out, a sadistically gleeful smile curling her lips. Peng looked up from the cutting board he had been working over and peered out of the kitchen to see what in the world his granddaughter was talking about only to drop his knife and start laughing so hard he nearly broke a rib at the sight before him. Wolf was still unconscious and his unit was dragging him by his ankles behind them; Mrs. Jones was confused, annoyed, and slightly fearful of her life (it **was** the home of Yassen Gregorovich) and the expression made her appear constipated; Mr. Crawley was trying to edge away from the woman but she had a death grip on his left arm – _That's going to leave bruises; I think I still have some bruise-balm_, the doctor thought absently – and Yessenia was… skipping merrily? He didn't think that possible of someone almost four months pregnant with twins.

When the old dragon managed to calm himself he motioned them all into the dining room, after having the soldiers deposit their leader on the couch of course, and began to prepare some warm tea. "So," he started off as he handed the bruised agent a teacup, "what brings you all back here?"

Mrs. Jones pursed her lips angrily, "You have Alex Rider captive and are aiding and abetting the murderer of Alan Blunt of MI6."

Crawley winced at her assumption as the remainder of K-Unit frowned; Peng merely took a slow sip of his drink before calmly fixing the woman with a stare that had brought greater beings than her to their knees. "You assume much and yet you know very little. Alexander is here of his own free-will and he is free to leave whenever he wishes. As for Mr. Blunt's murderer, well, I'm afraid you're looking at the man who forced him to speak." He smiled sweetly before continuing, "Yassen, my **grandson**, brought Alexander here after your boss attempted to **murder** him. He has been well cared for and, if you had allowed the young men accompanying you to explain, you would know all that has gone on. Now, if your desire is to arrest Yassen or I then I will be forced to explain to my grandson how you are a threat to his family and London will find your body displayed outside of MI6 with a note detailing the location of **every** MI6 agent currently undercover. Your head will find its way into your queen's bedroom with another note detailing every crime MI6 has been a part of over the last twenty years under Blunt's – and subsequently your – direction."

Jones had been growing steadily paler throughout the old man's explanation and by the time he had finished her hands were shaking so badly that Fox had pulled the cup out of her hands to keep it from dropping. A soft sound in the silence broke the head of MI6's terror and her gaze swung to the staircase where Alex Rider was standing on the bottom step watching her curiously as Yassen Gregorovich himself descended the last few steps.

"Mrs. Jones, I'm rather surprised to see you here." He turned to the assassin as he was stalking towards the woman; he'd heard her statement and the dragon's response. He was very much intent on wringing the agent's neck when his mate called out, "Don't even think about it; you will find yourself sleeping on the couch if you strangle her." And damn the blonde's newfound telepathy; he couldn't get away with anything anymore. The Brit slowly walked passed him and the Russian caught a whiff of his angel's scent; the divine aroma sent his blood rushing south and it took all of his iron control to keep his hands to himself. He comforted himself with the fact that he'd left several, very...prominent marks on the youth's body. Oh, he couldn't wait until he was fully recovered!

Jones could only stare in shock at the control Alex displayed over the dangerous killer, and when the words they had spoken finally registered she had to do a double take, "Wha–?" The SAS soldiers hid their grins and stifled their snickers and were failing miserably until a scantily-clad woman sashayed into the room.

"Peng you sulfur breathed, airhead! Where the hell did you put my potions!" The buxom beauty snapped at the old dragon, completely ignorant to the crowd of men ogling her form.

She was dressed – if one could call it dressed – in shear, white lawn harem pants and jacket over a bright red breast band and what appeared to be an equally bright red thong. All the men – Yassen, the Asian, Alex, and the unconscious Wolf excluded – lost their higher brain function and most of their blood volume to their nether regions. The elder's calm but snarky response was, "I have not touched your potions, banshee blood-sucking necrophiliac. Go put some actual cloths on before a bunch of horny soldiers gang-rape you."

The vampiress blinked at that and turned to look at the men and single woman sitting at the table, a sadistic grin stole over her face as she studied their faces and her gaze landed on Ms. Jones'_, Time to have some fun_! With a wordless exclamation of joy, Iraya flounced over to Tulip Jones and promptly sat in her lap, throwing her long arms about the shorter woman's neck and crying in glee, "Oh my! What a fine specimen! Li, darling, you shouldn't have brought me such a cute gift!" Yassen and Peng whacked their foreheads in exasperation as Alex burst into gales of laughter. Now, the elder Chinese _Lóng_ wouldn't have such issue with the High Lady's...means of alleviating boredom if he didn't see the gleam in her eye or smell the slight hint of hunger permeating from her flesh. Mature, post-menopausal females were Iraya's...preferred choice of prey and Tulip Jones was very much a match for those...preferences.

"Iraya, I know you're hungry but go find someone else's neck to snack. We're busy if you hadn't noticed."

"Busy doing what? Drinking tea? How droll." With a graceful huff the Old One stood and floated out of the room, pausing only long enough to give Alex a hug and to stick her tongue out childishly at Yassen.

"You learn to love her," Alex stated smartly. "Why are you here, Mrs. Jones?"

Jones sat there, flabbergasted, for a moment, before pulling herself together, mostly, and clearing her throat. "I came to retrieve you Alex."

"No," was all he said.

"But Alex, they kidnapped you and brought you here! Surely you can't say they had your best interests in mind!" She emphasized her impassioned speech by standing sharply only to hear a low, deadly, growl begin deep in Gregorovich's throat. To her it sounded much too real for her peace of mind; she sat back down in her chair.

"Kidnap me? **KIDNAP ME**? YOU and MI6 **KIDNAPPED** me every time you blackmailed and sent me to what could have been my death! I was sixteen when Blunt sent me to be raped and tortured! He shot me just before I turned eighteen so I couldn't ever, legally, refuse a mission. I'm safe here! Everyone thinks I'm dead and MI6 can't control me anymore. I have a family now and you want to take all that away because you can't wrap your mind around the fact that a killer cares more about me than you ever thought you did. They saved me from...everything including myself. I refuse to ever go back to being a spy." The blonde moved to curl in his lover's lap; all he wanted to do was just sit there surrounded by the Russian's protective, possessive arms.

A subtle shift in the atmosphere caused Mrs. Jones to glance at the others seated about the room; K-Unit was watching her with more focus than she was comfortable with while both Peng and Crawley possessed twin aura's that told of patient anger, and then there were the fierce, frozen eyes of the assassin who held his lover close and, without saying a word, promised unending pain to the middle-aged woman. "Mrs. Jones," Snake broke the silence, "pardon me if this counts as insubordination but I'll help them hide your body if you try to remove Cub from here."

There was murmured agreement from the other two soldiers and a hum of assent from Crawley. "You asked to be shown where Alex was. I tried to tell you he was safe, that he was well looked after. I have worked for MI6 for over thirty years and if you insist on trying to remove Alex from the premises, either through force or threat, every single fact I have accumulated over the years, every single slantwise move your organization has made will find its way onto the desks of every world leader in a matter of hours." The old agent's soft, almost calming, voice sent a chill down the woman's spine.

"John..."

"I'm serious, Tulip; Blunt crossed a lot of lines with Alex and I won't let you do the same. He's a free man now and he's happy for the first time in four years; leave him be." He turned from his fellow agent to speak to Yassen, "Mr. Gregorovich, I have a feeling much more needs to be discussed but it would perhaps be best done by Mrs. Jones, myself, and Dr. Peng. You look ill and the conversation will probably upset Alex..." Message heard message received; the Russian nudged the teen off his lap and guided him upstairs to their room.

Once the pair had left, Crawley turned back to Mrs. Jones and waited patiently for her to respond. It took some time for the woman to collect herself; she took a steadying breath and quietly commanded, "Tell me everything – from the beginning." Peng set his cup down and in a calm voice started to explain everything that he had found out about the young Rider. Again. He really should make a recording of this someday so he didn't have to keep explaining it every time someone new needed the story. _But then I wouldn't get to feel the sadistic glee when the self-righteous idiot breaks down in tears_, he thought, eyes turned toward the ceiling in half-annoyance. It took several hours, but when the tale was finished and the sun was beginning to set, Mrs. Jones drew in a sharp breath as she listened to the atrocities that had befallen the teen, she had no idea that he had suffered so terribly. The men sitting at the table pressed their lips together as they listened once more to what the old man was saying. It hurt all over again.

"Can you explain what's between Alex and Mr. Gregorovich better? I don't understand how they could go from being enemies to being so, so...intimate for wont of a better word."

"As I explained before, Alex's father made Yassen swear a Sorcerer's Oath to protect Alex if ever anything happened to him. This caused a connection to be formed that has drawn them together and disallows them to think that being together could possibly be wrong."

"So it's not by their will or desire?" She was sounding hopeful; if something was wrong and Alex was being forced then she would be in the right taking him away from the assassin and his family.

"No, if they had no desire for each other then they would not be together. The connection simply allows them to admit it to themselves without any trouble."

"But you just said–" Wolf, just waking and catching the tail-end of the conversation, interrupted her.

"No, he said their bond disallows them from thinking being together is wrong it does not force them to feel affection towards one another. There's a difference even the most ignorant American bigot can understand."

Mrs. Jones pressed her lips into a thin, white line as her cheeks colored unattractively. The Asian smiled slightly at Wolf as he stumbled into a chair across from his team. "So, do you plan on taking care of my darling granddaughter or am I going to have to harm you?"

"Yeah...once I wrap my head around her being pregnant with my kids. It's a bit much to handle at once...twins, holy hell..." The soldier slumped against the chair back. This was way too much for him to take in; couldn't Kia have phoned or written him with a heads up?

Jones listened to the others as they continued to talk about Wolf's sudden miracle; she glanced up at her old comrade and felt a sense of hopelessness settle on her shoulders. He had said that if she tried to save Alex he would kill her, if not physically, her career, but all she wanted to do was save the child from whatever control they had him under.

The doors opened once more only to have a small, blonde girl peek in.

"Grampa? Where's Mama and Papa?" Evee asked softly. She had begun to refer to Yassen as 'Papa' shortly after they had returned from Moscow, never to his face of course; she didn't want to risk making him distrust her again. The elder smiled softly and gestured for the six-year-old to come closer.

He lifted her onto his lap before answering her, "I believe they're making dinner; it's their night to cook, after all. But they could be spending some time together; your mother is rather...clingy this month."

Evee nodded in understanding before hopping down from the dragon's lap and giving each of the soldiers and Crawley a quick hug. She stuck her tongue out at Jones before trotting away to join her mama and papa in the kitchen.

"Mama and Papa?" The elder had to hold in a snicker; humans and their preconceived notions on family units were so very much fun to upend.

Crawley smiled slightly at Jones shocked expression, "Alex adopted her. And after some... issues, Yassen did as well." At the agent's look of stunned disbelief K-Unit burst into laughter.

"But, but..." She trailed off and Eagle, ever the medic, was half afraid she'd pass out from the shock of it all.

"Are you really that surprised? Cub isn't some captive here; this is his home and these people are his family now," Snake, who'd previously kept quiet, spoke softly though everyone in the room was clearly able to hear it. "You can't march into a place without intel and proceed to make presumptions or demands. That's soldier AND spy one-oh-one." He snorted derisively while standing and turned to address the doctor, "Where'd the crazy lady go? I think I'd rather talk to a woman who's at least slightly reasonable right now." Li Peng shrugged and the SAS soldier exited through the doors that led to the kitchen.

Fox and Eagle followed shortly after, but Wolf hung back, fidgeting nervously. "So... Peng... About Kia," the soldier started carefully.

"You got her pregnant out of wedlock and after only knowing her a few days. I would suggest you go make up for the last few months." The leader slunk off silently with his proverbial tail between his legs leaving the three oldest alone with each other. Oddly enough, Mrs. Jones found it more unnerving than when she was surrounded by hostile military men.

Meanwhile, Snake had managed to disappear into the castle's bowels; he was pissed and twitchy and he was just itching for some kind of fight. He'd dodged and ditched Eagle and Fox to avoid taking whatever was wrong with him out on his teammates. The soldier had been agitated for weeks now with no discernable reason that he could find. It was as if his emotional wires had been stripped of their normal insulation and everything irritated him to no end. He knew that it had started shortly after his two week leave but it made no sense; he'd spent his time at a beach and spa, relaxing and being doted on by gorgeous women. Everything had been perfectly fine there but the second he stepped off his plane it was as if a wave of irritation had descended upon his psyche. The SAS soldier had managed to keep his issues quiet since he'd rejoined K-unit and so far none of the others were suspicious; but Snake knew for a fact that he would never be able to keep the charade going around an assassin, ex-spy, dragon, and a pregnant woman. So instead he planned on keeping as hidden and silent as he possibly could... in short, he was taking a leaf out of Yassen's book.

He stopped walking, finally taking notice that he was completely lost. All that was around him were hallways with doors branching off every few feet – none of which was even remotely familiar.

"Lost, little soldier?" a seductive voice called out; the direction unknown.

His head jerked around in shock but he didn't see anyone else in the hallway. It was as if he had simply imagined that velvet voice from nowhere. "Goin' crazy that's all," he muttered darkly as he turned to continue on.

"Not at all, little soldier." That dark voice whispered in his ear. The Brit whipped around, his gun pulled from the hip-holster. But no one was there and the following chuckle was dark and mocking. "Oh, you poor, poor thing. You don't realize it do you? You're ignorant of what's happened, aren't you?"

"What? Who the hell are you? Where are you? SHOW YOURSELF!" A splitting headache suddenly arched through his skull and shoulders as someone yanked his head to one side, baring his throat.

"Soon, pet," were the last words he heard before icy pain lanced his neck, causing the soldier to jerk in shock and then to still.

It didn't feel like how the books described it: There was no ecstasy, no delirium, nothing that would make anyone want to be a vampire's meal. All Snake felt was the iron bar of an arm around his waist, the steel claws gripping his hair to keep his neck bared, and the painful burn of his blood being drawn from his veins. His knees buckled from weakness and he couldn't help the shameful tears the slipped from his eyes; this was torture and he couldn't escape. And then it just simply stopped. The agony was gone, replaced by a warm contentment that relaxed his body into the female behind who shifted her hold to cradle him It was just like being back at home when he was a child, curled up in a warm blanket as his mother held him and hummed nonsense to calm him from his too frequent nightmares. Snake relaxed into the feeling and before he realized what was happening he had slipped into a deep, near comatose, sleep.

When Snake woke, the scantily clad woman from earlier was seated in an armchair clothed in a silk sleeping-gown right out of the Victoria Era. "It's about time you woke, my pet," she spoke softly, never once looking up from her book.

Snake stared at her, or tried to, everything was blurry and his limbs felt like they weighed a ton, but his mind did manage to latch on to the last part of her sentence. "'M no' your pet," he slurred drunkenly.

She giggled in a way that he had to admit was cute. "But you are – now, anyway. It was the only way to repair the damage."

"Damage?" What in the world was she talking about? And how did becoming her...pet help?

"Yes, damage. As a rule, most humans aren't sensitive to the supernatural; they live comfortably with their heads buried in the sand. That said, all of K-Unit and Mr. Crawley are sensitive to an extent – you more than the others. This would have been most noticeable when you were a child; your parents probably waved your cries of ghosts and monsters away as bad dreams or an over-active imagination. Anyway, this predisposition for sensing the paranormal leaves you vulnerable to it. That childish concept of 'if you can't see it, then it can't see you' actually applies in this situation." She paused at his wide, questioning gaze, "Someone cast a spell upon you to make you a weapon. The spell made you into someone else's blade for the duration of their control.

"You probably noticed that you've become irritable and moody for no apparent reason?" Snake nodded. "The spell worked in two ways: One, it stripped your mind of the walls that protected it; effectively making you a 'raw nerve' to the supernatural – we'll work on that so you don't end up insane from feeling, well, everything and everyone. The second part directed you to only attack the mage's target; namely, me. Making you my human servant – and feel honored about that; I've never taken one before – connected your mind to mine so as to allow me partial control. I've repaired what I could but you'll always be a 'raw nerve' as long as you live – which is now however long I live."

Snake had to digest that for a few minutes before it finally managed to click in place, "I'm immortal?" That made... absolutely no sense to the SAS soldier. Humans couldn't become immortal. They were designed to fail after a few decades of life, that's why he joined up with the SAS, to die before his body had a chance to grow old and betray him. He didn't want to end up like his granddad, unable to wipe his own ass, and to end up that way for all eternity... "I don' wan' it. Take it back," he muttered like a petulant child.

"You won't end up like your grandfather; becoming the human servant of a vampire has...perks. Eternal youth, increased healing ability, reflexes, and strength, and...stability. You will live as long as I do barring that no one manages to give you a violent death and be young for the time that you live. You will never again be sick and poison won't affect you. As long as you are mine, I will take care of you: Financially, emotionally, mentally, and physically. Do you understand? I cannot take this back; you are mine until some kills you. Should I be near and your wounds too grave to heal I will offer to Turn you; you will be my Childe then and still under my care." Snake grumbled incoherently for a few moments before his drained body finally told him enough was enough and he fell asleep once more. This time however his mind was filled with dreams; images of bloody battles and war-torn lands, of mages and dragons battling on mountaintops, until it all finally faded into a nonsensically deranged version of a Dr. Seuss story. Yet still he slept on.

Elsewhere, Peng rubbed his temples tiredly; couldn't things just stay peaceful for once? Was a few months of peace really that much to ask for? Silently, and unknowingly, agreeing with the old man Crawley sighed and stared down at his half finished, and now cold, tea and wondered briefly what life would have been like if he had taken his father's advice and gone into business. Probably more boring than he could stand, he eventually decided and drained the last of his drink.


	23. Chapter 22

**Author's Note**:

Well, I know for certain I won't EVER apply to Med School; seriously, I can't wait for Spring Break. I'm exhausted and probably not very coherent. Anyway, expect no update 3/26/11; that's MegaCon and my vacation from updating. That said: I love you all, my dearest readers! Have fun on Spring Break!

Well, my birthday was on Thursday the 10th, I was given a mid-term and fire alarm testing. Sometimes I really don't like life.

*gives hug* Sorry, sis. Happy B-day anyway. *does some groveling while turning towards readers* Sorry I didn't update yesterday! Life happens is all I can say in my defense.

**Chapter 22**

"So, no one takes a hit out on someone for no reason. Who's the target and why was she or he targeted?" Wolf asked the next morning over a full Irish breakfast.

"Maybe it was Alex or Yassen; they have a ton of enemies." Eagle mumbled around a large chunk of sausage.

"Doubtful," Dr. Li Peng commented, "if it was one of them – and, mind you they are both believed dead – then the weapon wouldn't be a be-spelled human."

Alex lifted his face from where it had been bent, intent on his plate, "Why not?"

"Because none of our enemies previous to the shape-shifter were supernatural or supernaturally connected. Even SCORPIA steered clear of the paranormal," the assassin retorted coolly.

Alex nodded in understanding before returning to his plate. Kia glared tiredly at the table in general, "Maybe someone just hates us?" That a brought a chuckle to all at the table.

"I'm the target."

"Huh?" Everyone looked up.

"I'm the target," Iraya repeated, her eyes never leaving the plate. "You're forgetting that I'm the High Lady of the most powerful vampire clan in the world; I've had twenty failed assassination attempts in the last five years and had to thwart ten coup-de-tats over the last fifty years. The only questions that really matter are: Who wants me dead this time? Who's the mage: the person who wants me dead or the person who was hired to kill me?"

The silence that followed her short speech was thick as jell-o, only to be broken by a small sound from Mrs. Jones. "Vampires... don't exist," she stated primly, setting her knife and fork down, "I can buy some of what you told me yesterday but mythical creatures are where I draw the line."

Iraya and the others blinked in shock before bursting into uproarious laughter. "Girl-child, what do you think I am? Snake still has the bite marks to prove my existence and, if you're offering, I'd be more than happy to make a meal out of you as proof if you insist on denial." Jones stared at them all and once Snake had recovered enough he pulled the neck of his shirt down a bit to show the intense bruising and two semi-large holes in the side of it. Tulip could only blink in numb shock.

Snake then turned to the vampiress, "No snacking on her. Isn't my job now to be your food?" The High Lady only giggled in response while the director of MI6 buried her face in her hands.

"So vampires exist. What other mythical creatures exist?" she questioned.

"Dragons, loup-garou, both of which you're enjoying breakfast with, and a crossbred mutt who we have yet to give a proper classification." Yassen glared at his cousin's flippant tone and insult before giving her shin a swift kick beneath the table. Childish? Him? Never.

"There are other creatures but the list is long; I can lend you a book if you are truly interested," Peng replied while shooting a disapproving glare at both his grandchildren; they slumped in their seats like naughty kids at his gaze, however that did not stop Kia from just as swift a retaliation.

"No, no, that's fine. Just... give me a minute." The black-haired woman stood from the table and left, slightly unsteady on her feet.

"Think we gave her enough of a scare?" Wolf muttered once he was sure that she was gone.

"No," was Snake's grumbled response. "She's still thinking that she needs to take Cub from here; that everyone's the bad guy but her and she's in the right. She needs to be terrified of the consequences she'll face if she tries anything." Everyone but the Old One stared at Snake in a mixture of confusion and wariness.

"How do you know what she's thinking?" Fox asked, eyes narrowed in suspicious.

"Evil Mistress?"

Ira sighed, "Don't call me that, pet. The spell that was cast on him made him a 'raw nerve' and sensitive to everything and everyone. Unlike Alexander, Snake doesn't hear Mrs. Jones' or anyone's thoughts so much as he is able to feel the emotions and extrapolate the logic behind them. Understand?"

The rest of K-unit nodded slowly, not really understanding but willing to take it on faith that she was speaking truth. Alex and his mate rolled their eyes, before they stood, Yassen with some help, and carried their now empty dishes back to the kitchen. Snake just shifted in his seat and returned to his meal, not really eating as much as picking at the food uninterestedly.

The couple could hear Iraya order Snake to eat so she could feed as they left the room. The teen was blushing slightly as thoughts of time alone with his mate filled his head. His heat was starting to peak and the urge to have sex was nearly overwhelming and he could sense that the Russian wasn't fairing much better; the blonde was releasing such a high quantity of pheromones that the assassin's senses were in overdrive. If only the youth wasn't so afraid of intercourse!

Once the dishes had been washed, dried, and put away, Yassen slipped his arms around Alex's waist and nuzzled the side of his neck affectionately. With the house as full of people as it was, it was difficult for the pair to find some time alone, so in a stroke of genius the Russian had proposed that he take Alex to the village. It would give them time away from the insanity and the Sorcerer could interact with people who weren't...abnormal.

It didn't take them long to gather their coats, tell Evee where they were off to, and slip out the door unnoticed by the majority of the household. The village in question was small and rural by even Eastern Europe's standards and located ten miles from the castle they called home. It had a quaint, old world feel to it where everyone knew everyone else and gossip was the only thing of interest. The two window-shopped, played tourist, and ate at the picturesque cafe when the clock tower stuck noon. The day was perfect until the couple stopped at a family restaurant for dinner.

As soon as they entered, Yassen's arm slung around Alex's shoulders, it was as if someone had turned on an ice-cold fan in a warm room. The sudden change in atmosphere caused the assassin to look up and see the hard, disapproving looks on the faces of a majority of the patrons. Had the waitress not approached the pair then the restaurant might not have been standing. "Hello again, sir. Would you like your usual table?" She was young, about nineteen or twenty by Alex's best estimate, but she was friendly and was studiously ignoring the dark aura building at her back.

"Yes, thank you, Celestina," he replied courteously; she was always good to him when he ate there.

When she settled them at the table she asked, "Who's the young man with you, Vlad?"

"My betrothed, Aleks. He's been living with me for some time now but this is the first time he has been well enough to visit the village."

Celeste blinked in surprise before turning a genuine thousand watt smile on the younger man, "I'm glad you're feeling better! Don't worry about these old fogeys," she waved dismissively over her shoulder, "they act the same way towards me. So, what can I get you two to eat?" She asked whipping out a pad of paper and pen.

"My usual for me but with a red wine – you pick," he turned towards the Brit, "What would you like, _Sashka_?"

The last Rider looked at the menu, "I'll have _musaca_ with _iahnie_ and whatever wine he's having."

"One _caltaboş _with _vinete umplute_ and _musaca_ with _iahnie_ with red wine coming right up!"

Once Celestina had left the oppressive atmosphere returned full force on the couple causing Alex to shift uncomfortably. Ignoring the glares he was receiving the Russian leaned forward to engage his lover in conversation, "Other than right now what do you think of this place?"

"It's a beautiful town; perfect for raising a family," he looked out the far window. "It's a nice place: The people – for the most part – are kind, the streets are clean, and there doesn't seem to be that wariness that's present in larger, more crime-filled cities. I really would like to be able raise children here, Dragon." He turned back and smiled sweetly; to Yassen, and the patrons of the restaurant who could see, the youth appeared to be an angel in human form. The malevolent ambiance faded some with the young man's honest happiness.

Yassen smiled softly back at his lover, hopefully someday he would be able to fulfill Alex's wish, but before he could tell his mate, Celestina arrived with their food. She was quick and efficient; setting everything up quickly; with a final adjustment to the wine bottle now situated in the middle of the table between the two plates of food, she turned and left the pair to dine in peace.

The food was exquisite and the wine perfectly complimented the meal; a pleasant dinner overall until a middle-aged man with a receding hairline stomped over to the pair, a glowering malevolence contorting his face grotesquely. "Your kind isn't welcome here. Get out, you fucking fags, before I kill the both of you."

Alex stiffened and clutched his knife in preparation to defend himself but a slight touch to his shin made him glance up at Yassen who shook his head slightly and turned to face the man. "I'm afraid your demand will not be met. My fiancé and I are paying customers and unless the owner herself asks us to leave, politely, we are going to stay here and enjoy the rest of our meals. Good night." The assassin dismissed the man both verbally and physically as he turned away and took a sip from his wine glass.

"You rat bastard!" the man screeched, moving to stab the Russian with the knife he'd concealed.

He was stopped before the killer could react completely by an angry woman's shout, "Marian, you will get your worthless arse out of my restaurant and never come back! I'm tired of hearing your shit; you are officially banned! The next time I see you in here I will filet you! **GET** **OUT**!" The man – Marian – ran out of there as fast as his pudgy legs could carry him. The grey-haired woman with a dancer's build walked over to the pair, "I'm sorry about that idiot, Vladimir. I hope he didn't completely ruin your meal." After Yassen had informed her, with an almost fond smile on his face, that it hadn't she turned to Alex, "You better keep an eye on him, young man; many a girl would try to steal this fine piece of masculinity from you."

She was a beautiful woman who had aged gracefully, retaining her looks even in her advanced years. She was tall and was proportioned like a ballerina with the easy grace to match. Smiles were tucked into the corners of her mouth while mischief sparked in her eyes. She bowed elegantly, "I am Marcela Noaptedansator, the owner of this establishment. You, Aleks, are welcome her anytime; I'll mince whoever makes trouble for you while here."

Alex was at a loss for words at first so shocked he was at the woman's comments that he didn't know what to think; eventually he regained control of his tongue and stuttered out a meek apology that had the old woman cooing over him in a motherly fashion. She turned back to the assassin, "And you best be keeping this darling safe, Vlad, he's so innocent that the wolves of this town would eat him in a heartbeat!"

They left the restaurant, Marcela's Dance, in high spirits and returned to the castle at a leisurely place. Since they were far away from the large cities the stars shone in all their brilliance providing all the light they would need to walk the well trod, near smooth trail back home... provided the rest of the occupants hadn't destroyed it.

Their home was still in one piece, miraculously. But, apparently their neglecting to inform the other inhabitants of their whereabouts did not go over well. The Asian was glaring angrily while tapping his foot when Yassen and Alex were closer to the door. "Where have you two been?"

Yassen grinned at his grandfather and replied in a perfectly cheerful voice, "Absolutely none of your business."

"Grandson...how are any of us supposed to keep you and Alexander safe if you insist on running off without telling anyone?" the elder ground out.

"But we did tell someone, Dr. Peng. Well told Evee that if we weren't back by nine she was to tell all of you that Yassen and I had gone to the village for the day." The blonde smiled sweetly, "It's such a lovely town; it's absolutely perfect for raising a family. We met these two wonderful ladies at the restaurant we had dinner at; Marcela and Celestina are quite kind."

Peng sighed at Alex's comments, of course, the village, how could he have forgotten that that was the one place that the teen hadn't been to yet. That didn't mean he was going to let them off the hook about leaving unannounced... but at least it was semi-productive. "Still, you should have told Iraya or myself; we could have made sure someone had gone with you."

"And that was the point. _Sashka_ and I have had very little time to be alone together; going to the village was our date."

"Nonsense, you have both had plenty of alone-time."

"Not since that lot arrived." Yassen muttered darkly.

"And you make a point of sending someone to check up on us whenever we do manage to get away for a little while. We're not horny high school students with no concept of safety. Yassen and I both agree that I'm not ready to be pregnant; we're not going to leap into the sack without protection. A little trust would be nice, Dr. Peng," the Brit growled out before maneuvering around the dragon and marching up the stairs, anger evident in his every move.

The assassin observed his lover before turning back to his grandfather, "And here I was thinking I was the only one who could make him that angry, hm!" The elder stared after the Russian as the younger man climbed the stairs to follow his mate inside.

When the killer walked into their shared room, he noticed his angel was pressing his face against the glass and gripping his hair tightly. "I'm burning up, Dragon. My body is on fire and I want to be with you so very much. But I'm so scared and everyone keeps doubting my judgment and–!" The mixed-breed cut his mate off by spinning him around and sealing their lips together.

Alex groaned wantonly and arched into his lover's body, nipping at the older man's lips and pulling at his clothes. It was too much! Screw the fact that the house was full of people, screw his issues, he wanted this and, damn it, he was going to get it!

Yassen managed to separate their lips for a few scant seconds to murmur in his lover's ear, "There's a bed in the artillery room."

"Does the door lock?" he managed to gasp out before a moan forced itself from his lips; his mate had bitten hard enough on his neck to draw blood. The Russian growled out an affirmative before lifting the teen and running at full speed to the artillery room. He locked the door behind them before depositing the Brit on the bed.

Evee woke the next morning and wandered out into the dining room, looking for her mama and papa. They were nowhere to be found. Curiously the young girl searched the rooms she knew that they spent time in until her list of options was down to one: the artillery room; the one area of the house even her mama forbade her from entering.

She debated briefly on whether to pester one of the adults before violently banging on the door. "Mama! Are you in there, Mama?" she called out between knocks.

The noise did not succeed in waking Alex from his deep sleep; however, it was very effective in rousing Yassen. Blearily the assassin untangled himself from his lover's arms and wrapped a simple terry-cloth robe around his slender frame before opening the locked door to let Evee inside.

"Keep it down, _заинька_, your mother is still asleep," the Russian groggily grumbled.

Eveleen blinked up at the Russian and silently took in his rumpled just-rolled-out-of-bed appearance before peering past him curiously, looking for Alex.

"M'kay," she replied, climbing under the covers beside her mother while ignoring both her parents' nudity.

When Peng wandered into the kitchen at nine in the morning he expected there to be food already made and waiting for the scavengers to come and pick at it so he was decidedly confounded when he walked into a spotless, and foodless, room with no sign that his grandson had made it down to even start cooking. It was enough to almost make the old dragon panic.

"Where's the food and where's Cub?" Snake asked with a half-asleep Iraya stumbling behind him.

"You have not seen him? Yassen is also missing." Now the doctor was starting to worry.

"Nope, now that I think about it, Evee's door was open when I passed by and she wasn't in there..."

Peng rubbed his chin in thought for a moment before an idea crossed his mind, "One moment, I'm going to check on something." Silently the old dragon mounted the four flights of stairs until he arrived at the door to the artillery room. The door was unlocked allowing the old man to push the door open quietly and find a heartwarming sight inside.

Yassen was curled protectively around Alexander's back while the Brit himself was curled around Evee. It was obvious what the teen and the assassin had done the previous evening but seeing the family relaxed in sleep was enough to keep the elder from immediately scolding them. He left the room only to return with clothing for the nude couple. He didn't think they'd want the little girl to get an eyeful.

The elder placed the folded clothes on the edge of the bed before reaching out carefully and touching his grandson's bicep, waking him. Peng was rather surprised when the younger dragon woke slowly instead of trying to kill him.

"What?" he grumbled.

"There are some clothes at the foot of the bed for you and Alexander; see if you can put them on before Eveleen notices you and her mother are naked," he answered teasingly.

"Ah..." It was a treat for the Asian to watch his stoic grandson actually blush. "Thanks..." The doctor chuckled quietly as he left the room, closing the door behind him.

Yassen waited until he could no longer hear his grandfather's footsteps before shaking Alex's shoulder gently, urging him to rouse. Slowly his mate opened his golden eyes and looked at the Russian as if he had just been wakened from a coma, unfocused and still half asleep. "We need to get some clothes on," the assassin whispered, nudging the teen's bare hip with his free hand.

"Mmmmmmm, let me sleep," he mumbled, turning over and falling back asleep.

The Russian refrained from rolling his eyes and hauled his mate from the bed, "We need to put clothes on before the kid sees something she shouldn't. You wouldn't want her to be scarred for life, would you?" Alex mumbled incoherently into Yassen's chest even as he felt the slight drag of cotton being dragged over his legs. He knew that he really should get dressed but it was just so comfortable laying there with Yassen without having to worry about anything. "If I knew you'd be so much a pile of goo the morning after I would have mated you years ago. It's rather pleasant having you like this."

That got Alex to focus for a moment as he finally remembered exactly what the two of them had done the night before and why he felt so good this morning. A stupid grin stretched across his lax features, "Yeah," he sighed dreamily. The Russian chuckled as he finished making his lover decent before pulling on a pair of boxers and a tank-top for himself. "Mmm, did you let Evee in this morning? I'm sure we locked the door..."

"Yeah, she was knocking earlier - I don't think it was even four in the morning when I let her in. Honestly," he turned to the Sorcerer, "I'm not entirely sure what I said to her."

Alex looked at his lover, "More importantly, were you wearing something when you opened the door?"

"I was wearing a robe; I wasn't so asleep that I would answer the door in the nude."

"Have you ever answered the door naked before? For any reason?" Alex had to admit he was curious, and just the image that idea produced lit a fire in his loins.

Yassen actually had to take a moment to think about the question. "Once; your father and I were on a mission together in a rural portion of northern Brazil. The Amazon Rainforest is hot enough that clothing is impossible to wear for sleep. John knocked on the door in the middle of the night to rouse me for the mission and I answered without putting clothes on. He made the most amusing face; it actually had me laughing like an idiot for several minutes."

The teen snorted at that, amusement filling his eyes even as the picture of a naked, flushed, and sweating Yassen filled his mind.

The killer grinned, "You need to get your head out of the gutter. Everyone else is probably up for breakfast and we don't have time for sex right now. Perhaps a bit later?"

The ex-spy matched his lover's grin with a leer of his own. He had every intention of making sure that particular promise was fulfilled. The pair's flirting was interrupted, however, by a small yawn from the bed as Evee awoke and stretched her short limbs.

"Morning, Mama. Morning..." she trailed off; she wasn't sure if the Russian would want to be called 'papa' by her even if he did call her 'bunny'.

Alex smiled brightly at his adopted daughter and crawled back onto the bed in order to drag her into a hug. Yassen sat on the edge of the mattress and watched the pair silently feeling decidedly awkward.

"What was with the pause, little one?" the blonde asked, kissing his adoptive daughter's head affectionately.

Evee glanced at surreptitiously at the Russian before whispering softly in her mama's ear about her dilemma. A look of understanding crossed the ex-spy's face as he listened to her soft, nervous words. He smiled sweetly before replying, "I'll talk to him about that later, okay? Now, let's head to breakfast before there isn't any left."

Yassen coughed slightly at that and smirked, "We would probably be better off just making some of our own since I doubt any of the soldiers know how to cook."

"Probably."


	24. Chapter 23

**Author's Note**:

It's Spring Break and all I can think is, "Oh God, I still have to write my midterm." What's the point of a break if I still have to do work? Anyway, there are only a few things about this chapter I feel like commenting on: 1) The first reviewer who can correctly point out and identify the quote from a TV show will get to request one short story for us to write for them (no smut, neither Sho-dono nor I are any good at writing smut and short means less than 5k words). Also, writertron, Insanely Me, and Mindofzeus1: Where are you guys? I've missed reading your reviews!

Spring break for you, you mean, mine just ended and I'm off to Jacksonville to face the dreaded mid-terms. Life sucks.

**Chapter 23**

In the few minutes it had taken the three to make themselves presentable, things downstairs had gone horribly wrong.

"I don't think pancake batter is supposed to be brown."

"Well then you make them if you're so smart!"

"Does anyone know how to work this thing?"

"Why is the coffee pink?"

Alex, Yassen, and Evee stared in horror while Peng and Iraya were laughing hysterically: There was multi-colored foodstuff on the walls, floor, and ceiling. The members of K-Unit were at each others' throats and Mrs. Jones wasn't in sight. "Who let them near my kitchen?" the blonde teen growled menacingly.

Peng managed to stop laughing long enough to glance at the trio before dissolving once more into hysterics. Crawley appeared from parts unknown with a normal looking cup of coffee and an amused expression on his face, "I believe they decided it themselves."

And the last Rider lost it. Several loud bangs, booms, and exclamations of pain later had K-Unit, Peng, Crawley, Kia, and Iraya out in the snow with all entrances locked tight. When Alex's rage had finally been turned upon the kitchen, Yassen had already poured out the pink coffee and made a new batch. He had also snagged two bowls, milk, and cereal so that he and Evee could enjoy at least some sort of breakfast while the teen set his mind upon returning his kitchen to the shape it ought to be in.

"How dare they turn my perfect kitchen into, into-! Bloody, buggering, ham-handed, lack-wit arseholes! I should make THEM into breakfast for this travesty!" As the Brit continued his tirade, the Russian and the child came to an understanding: Never fuck with the Sorcerer's kitchen.

Ignoring his simmering mate, the killer asked, "Why did you pause this morning?"

Eveleen choked on the spoonful of Cheerios she had been in the process of chewing and, after swallowing, held out her finger, indicating she needed a second, before answering. "I'm just... not sure what to call you."

"What do you mean?"

She blushed before answering, "You hated me, hurt me, then saved me almost dying in the process, and you mated with Mama...Am I supposed to call you Mr. Gregorovich, Yassen, or something else?"

Yassen stared at the small child in front of him as if she had grown a second head, "You call me what you wish..."

Her blush crept up to her ear tips and beneath her shirt, "Even 'Papa'?"

The Russian's mouth dropped open, speechless. How did on respond to something like that? Sure he cared for her, thought of her as part of Alex's family but... he wasn't entirely sure he thought of her as his own.

Evee scrunched her eyes shut before stuttering out an, "I'm sorry!" and running out of the room fast enough to knock her chair over. _So stupid!,_ she berated herself. She knew he didn't see her as his; the little blonde knew that and made sure never to call assassin that to his face. _Papa's going to hate me again_, she mentally whimpered. The child didn't stop running until she'd ensconced herself in the room she'd marked out as a bolt hole. Once the door was locked she slid down the door curled into a ball, biting her lip to muffle her sobs; she didn't want anyone to find her right then.

As soon as Evee had blurted her apology Yassen knew he'd made a mistake...again. With a wince he looked over at Alex who had paused in his campaign against the chaos and was gazing at the assassin evenly. The dragon spread his arms helplessly; he could kill a man entrenched in an impenetrable fortress, hack almost any computer, but he hadn't a clue on how to deal with children.

The youth rolled his eyes, "You're supposed to go after and explain why you we're shocked before then giving a 'yea' or 'nay' to her seeing you as her father. And you're supposed to do it now before I become angry."

"But..."

"**NOW**!"

The poor, confused _lóng_ ran from the kitchen, dodging an expertly aimed, soaking sponge before he rubbed at his face and groaned. Life just couldn't go smoothly for a few hours, could it? There always had to be something. The assassin sighed and tilted his head slightly, following the soft sound of crying to a room set away from the rest of the bedrooms. "Eveleen? Are you in here?"

The futile attempt at quieting the sobs confirmed his thoughts and he quickly picked the lock after testing the knob. When he felt resistance he gentled his push until the there was enough of a gap to enter. The killer turned and saw the pitiful sight of a sad little girl; the dragon in him called him an idiot while the wolf gave advice on how to fix the mess: Hold the cub, pet her hair, try the rocking thing, **be** **gentle**.

Yassen followed his instincts and soon had his mate's daughter settled in his lap as he rocked her back and forth; he couldn't think of anything that he could say to soothe her so instead he started to hum. It was the same lullaby he had used to calm Alex so many months before and it worked perfectly. She calmed and snuggled into his chest; the Russian had to admit that she was adorable at times. "Why do you want to call me that, _заинька_?" he asked softly, petting her pale blonde locks. From this angle he could sort of understand why Kia had described her as looking like she was his actual daughter all those months ago.

Evee sniffled before answering, "Because you and Mama are together and you take care of me and you saved me when you didn't have to and..." Yassen pressed a finger against her lips, quieting her.

"I understand, but... I don't know. I have never really had a family; I don't know what it's like. As you can already see, I haven't a clue on how to keep from making you cry every other day."

The six-year-old giggled softly, "No one knows how to do anything when they first start." Her small hands clenched his shirt tightly, "I don't remember much before the shadow took me; what little I do remember I wish I didn't. I was the youngest of twelve and the seventh girl; no one wanted me and they were always so cruel. They wanted to hurt me and you said you didn't; you're already ahead of the game."

Yassen let out a humorless laugh; he knew exactly how that felt, "Yeah..." he muttered softly as he laid his cheek atop Evee's blonde hair. What the hell, it was worth a shot. "If you want to call me Papa...then I can't think of a reason why we can't see how it goes."

And the look of utter adoration she gave him was entirely worth such a little thing as a name. "Thank you!" the child shouted, throwing her arms around him with enough force to knock the Russian onto his back.

Yassen smiled softly and hugged her back carefully. "You're welcome, but I think we should probably go rescue our houseguests from the cold while your mama's still too busy to notice."

Ten minutes later had four SAS soldiers, a MI6 agent, a dragon, a vampire, and one very pissed off pregnant werewolf huddled together before the living room's lit fire place. The Russian snorted at the sorry sight the lot of them made before making his way back to the kitchen to see how far Alex had gotten in his battle with his destroyed territory, Evee following at his heels.

"You let the idiots back in." It wasn't a question and the Brit didn't turn from his work even for a second.

"Out of pity for my cousin's twins. No need to let them suffer, it snowballed from there." Yassen replied casually as he returned to his previously abandoned seat at the table and his now soggy cereal.

"They wrecked my kitchen," he groused; this was his domain and he only let Peng and Yassen on occasions where he wasn't able/didn't want to cook. Those careless morons should have never been allowed anywhere near the area!

"The unborn twins did no such thing! And they are the only ones I let in. Kia simply left the door open."

The glare sent at him could melt diamonds. "Yassen Gregorovich: You are an absolute _слабоумный_! You can sleep on the couch tonight!" He brandished the frying pan he'd been washing menacingly, "Get out before I hurt you."

The assassin stayed put and simply watched his lover silently as he stirred the inedible remains of his supposed breakfast. He only moved to avoid the hurled pan and pull his mate close enough to kiss. "I'm not going anywhere, _Ангел мой_," he murmured. "I think we need to remind my grandfather that Evee has lessons and then find some place to be alone." He nibbled a delicate ear to emphasize his meaning. Alex's rage died as his body shuddered in pleasure at the scrape of his mate's teeth on sensitive flesh. His body rocked forward to press close to the Russian before Yassen pulled away, drawing a low whine from the Sorcerer.

"_Заинька_, have you had enough to eat?" the assassin asked.

"Yes, Papa," she replied, smiling sweetly.

"Then tell your grandfather that he needs to start your lessons." She nodded and jumped up to do as asked, rocketing out of the room to give her parents some time alone.

Once the soft sound of Evee's feet slapping the wooden floorboards faded Alex seized Yassen's shirt and dragged him close to kiss him roughly, "Never," he bit at the other's lips, "ever," his hands dragged down the Russian's slim body, "do that again." Alex ground their hips together urgently as he felt strong hands slip beneath his shirt.

"We should move somewhere private," he managed before biting the Brit's neck hard enough to draw blood. God, he could never get enough of his mate! His _Sashka_ would never have to worry about him leaving; just the scent of the blonde was enough of a summons.

When Yassen finally lifted his head from his love's shoulder his pupils were blown, making him look drugged, and his lips were pulled back in a wild grin even as he started to drag the Sorcerer to places more private.

"Grampa! It's time for my lessons!" Evee chirped, tugging on the elder's sleeve.

"Yes, yes. Where's your mother, Eveleen?" he asked.

She giggled and grinned mischievously, "With Papa; they're having some alone time right now and I really don't think you want to disturb them." Peng had to pause for a moment to digest the little one's comment, when he finally figured out what she was saying his head dropped. Those two were incorrigible!

"You've disappointed me, Saika-me," a woman reproached; seduction unconsciously lacing her words.

"My apologies, milady," Saika-me replied. He was a tall man clothed in a dark suit with an even darker great coat. A broad-rim hat hid his tightly braided black hair and blood red eyes. In the right light, insanity shone in his gaze; insanity and fanatical devotion to his Mistress. The mage was a match for the name his Lady had given him; he was utterly 'devoted'. A slim, pale hand slid from the shadows that ensconced his Mistress and touched his cheek lightly. Even that simple touch set his nerves aflame. He was utterly Hers; none other had serviced Her nearly as long as he.

"Tell me what you plan to do to rectify your…" she dug a manicured claw into the flesh below his jaw, "failure."

Saika-me shuddered at the slight pain and forced himself not to press further into it, "A siege," he stated softly.

"Oh? Do elaborate, my pet." She flattened her hand to caress down his throat and leave light scratches in its wake.

Another shiver ran through the mage's body, he was enjoying himself, "A siege upon the human's home will eradicate any and all witnesses along with you original target, milady." The sharp press of a single nail into the curve of his neck and shoulder brought a low groan from his lips.

"You will go there yourself to ensure that no...mistakes are made. But, that his later," she rose, her stride resembling a perfectly performed glissade, and stopped just at the door. "Right now I wish for your...companionship." The vampiress resumed her egress and the pet hastened to follow.

Hours later, well after the sun had set, an explosion rocked the fortress. Everyone scrambled from their beds as yet another bomb ignited. Evee was crying loudly while Alex shushed her and Yassen barked orders.

"Alex, take Evee, Jones, Crawley, and Kia down to the bunker. Grandfather, Iraya: Figure out who is taking shots at us. K-Unit, there are turrets at…" The group scrambled to follow their instructions as the Russian was moving to initiate the castle's defense. The concealed panel in the dining room had the flood lights on and the every exit except the hidden ones locked with metal sheeting further barring entrance. He grabbed the universal remote in the main family room to turn the T.V. to the surveillance cameras; if the shit really hit the fan, he could use his secret weapon just by pressing one button on it.

Wolf came running towards the assassin who was flipping through the security channels, searching for a look at whoever was firing at them, "Any luck at locating our enemies... sir?" The soldier hesitated on the last word. It was instinctual for him to address the person in charge during an attack but…

"Yes, actually," the Russian paused and growled lowly, "According to Iraya, they've brought seven tanks."

The shorter man paled. _Tanks, why'd it have to be tanks?_, he thought miserably even as he watched Yassen lift his remote control again and press the small red button in the lower right hand corner. "And that button does what?" The SAS soldier didn't like the feral smile that had spread across the killer's face.

"It triggers the eight RIM-116 Rolling Airframe Missiles surrounding the house. They will automatically lock on to any hostiles not programmed into their recognition software."

Wolf could only stare at the Russian. "RAMs? EIGHT RAMS? WHAT THE HELL?"

"Is there a problem with that? They're perfect on ships but with a little modification they make wonderful home defense systems."

"It's bloody overkill! No one needs that much buggering fire power!" This was bad if the dragon had that much access to extreme armament.

"It's not overkill if you're being attacked by tanks," the Russian stated simply before switching the T.V. over to what was obviously a targeting plain for one of the RAMs. It had already locked onto a tank and was preparing to fire.

"Dear God in Heaven, help us all," was the only thing the Brit could think of in response.

"Dear God in Heaven, ignore the idiot beside me and help these things aim straight," Yassen countered sarcastically as the first missiles were launched, shattering the windows and nearly deafening the residents of the house. Whether the faux-prayer was heard or not, the missiles didn't miss. All seven tanks that had been approaching the fortress were destroyed; he'd have to ask Iraya later if there was a spell to erase evidence of mass destruction.

When the noise quieted Alex wandered out of his hiding place to find Yassen, upon finding his mate the first thing the teen did was slap the older man, **hard**, before drawing him into a thankful embrace.

"What was that for, _Sashka_?" he asked petulantly; the Sorcerer had a strong arm and it had actually hurt.

The blonde leaned back enough to look his mate in the eye, "I'm the one who has to fix the damage you caused to the surrounding forest."

Yassen pressed a gentle kiss to Alex's forehead with a muttered, "Sorry," before he turned back to examine the surveillance footage. A man in a dark suit and even darker great coat staggered out of the rubble unscathed and marched steadily toward the manor. He didn't appreciate the utter destruction of his toys... though he had to admit the missile launchers had been decidedly unexpected.

The stranger stopped just shy of flood light pole and raised his arms ominously. The atmosphere cracked and Alex grabbed his sides before his knees gave way; the shear amount of magic was making it difficult for him to breathe. The teen's eyes widened dramatically as he gasped desperately for air. Yassen was beside him in a heartbeat, checking his vitals and pressing on his shoulders to get the ex-spy to lay back.

A CRACK sounded throughout the area while lightning rained down from the sky above as if Zeus himself had been angered. The pressure of magic increased as the mage prepared his next working. The ex-spy stopped breathing in response; his hands clawed at his chest where his heart raced painfully. The powerful, oppressive aura was suffocating as much as it was buffet for the young Sorcerer; it was as if the force was strangling him while his body was in overdrive trying to absorb as much of the excess energy as it could.

Yassen pressed against Alex's shoulders, trying to keep the teen still even as the younger man's body jerked about as if he were suffering a seizure. Fortunately, Peng had returned and quickly rushed over to the blondes. When he saw Alexander's thrashing form, the old dragon dropped to his knees beside the ex-spy and proceeded to draw the excess magic from the youth. The Sorcerer calmed but still couldn't draw breath. Someone would have to disable the mage outside before the younger Brit could breathe again.

"Grandson, go to the roof and see if you cannot snipe our attacker," the Asian commanded.

The Russian nodded and rushed up four flights of stairs with barely a thought to his own condition; once he had reached his beloved arsenal, the assassin didn't waste any time in deliberating over which rifle to use. He knew **exactly** which gun he needed. As an old Chinese man once said, "Magic must defeat magic," and he had the perfect weapon for that.

The weapon in particular was something he'd bought on a whim when he saw it in a shop in the L.A. Chinatown. The owner said it was a magic rifle capable of hitting any target no matter what. He'd thought the grey-haired man was bonkers at the time; especially when the man's nephew ran in with a girl under his arm screaming something about a "bad day." But strange happenings and crazy men be damned, the gun had come in handy hundreds of times over the years, and the old man hadn't been lying; the bullet always hit its target

He hastily climbed to the sniper's nest and took aim, careful to keep the vampiress out his crosshairs. When he was certain, he exhaled and pulled the trigger and...the man in the dark great coat swatted the bullet aside. The assassin's head shot up in surprise before the old man's voice echoed in his head once again, _"Magic must defeat magic, this gun is magic, yes, but the bullets it fires are not. Very important, keep in mind. One more thing, only clean with white vinegar and soft cloth."_

Yassen allowed himself to childishly bang his head against the roof before composing himself. If he couldn't directly hit the interloper he could certainly make things difficult. Yassen quickly reloaded his gun and took careful aim at a spot barely three feet away from the dark suited man and fired. The hidden landmine exploded with enough force to throw the tall man straight into the side of a boulder. The distraction gave the High Lady enough time to...disable her opponent before she bodily dragged him into the house's...containment area.

By the time the assassin made it downstairs Alex was sitting up and his breathing had returned to something close to normal and was giving him a look that informed him in no uncertain terms that he was sleeping on the couch for the foreseeable future. "What? What did I do this time?" His mate's reply was simply to glare and snatch the rifle still clutched in the younger dragon's hand before stomping off to the kitchen.

Yassen stared after his lover in confusion before turning a look full of please-explain-what-the-hell-just-happened pleading to his grandfather and a newly arrived Mr. Crawley. The three shrugged their shoulders helplessly; the last Rider was so touchy these days.

"You think he could be up the duff?" Wolf asked.

"No, _Sashka_ and I are not that careless," the Russian growled back. With a final glare the assassin followed his mate down the long hallway to the kitchen to see if he could get back in his love's good graces.

Trying to enter his lover's domain while said lover was pissed earned a heavy wok being thrown in the Russian's general direction.

Using every gymnastic and martial art trick he had ever learned, the Russian ducked and weaved his way closer to Alex even as the enraged Sorcerer kept up his barrage of kitchenware. "_Sashka_, please! Stop!"

"No! You stupid, irritating, dunderheaded, _слабоумный_! Get out of my kitchen!" he screeched angrily, finally reaching for the knives. Yassen grabbed the teen's wrists and cornered his love against the counter, preventing the angered blonde from grabbing any of the tools that could possibly be used as ammo.

"_Ангел мой_, you need to tell what I did wrong so I can fix it," he nuzzled that part of his mate's neck he'd permanently marked. "I hate it when you are upset with me, Little Alex."

"You have heavy machinery and _landmines_ outside where Evee enjoys _playing_ and you're asking why I'm **angry**?" the enraged Brit shouted in Yassen's face.

"Ah," he replied simply.

"_Ah?_"

"Both the RAMs and the landmines are only operational once the red button on the universal remote is pressed. And, before you shout about how irresponsible that sounds; when the red button is pressed, the back of the remote runs a finger print scan to verify that I'm the one who pressed it. Anyone else and nothing happens. Our Evee was never in any danger, my own," the Russian explained softly, planting delicate kiss along the youth's neck.

Alex's dour expression didn't lighten in the least bit at his lover's explanation, regardless of whether or not Evee could have been hurt, Alex was more angered by the fact that Yassen hadn't told him about it.

"You didn't tell me, Yassen."

"I didn't think I would need to, honestly. Eight RAMs and a field of landmines isn't something I've ever expected I would need to use, _Ангел мой_."

Alex opened his mouth but no sound came out for several seconds as he motioned violently with his hands, "THEN WHY THE HELL DID YOU INSTALL THEM IN THE FIRST PLACE!" the Brit finally managed to scream.

"I didn't! Your father installed them along with the sniper's nest and the armory. I only know about them because he left a letter explaining everything about this place." The blue-eyed man ran a hand through his hair distractedly, "He'd modified this place for us; he'd wanted a place where you and I could be safe should there ever be a need for it."

"For 'us'" the teen made air-quotes, emphasizing his annoyance, "I wasn't even around when he built this place!"

"He didn't 'build' the place; he modified it and you were alive when he did. He purchased this place when he married your mother and modified it for us shortly after he made me promise to always protect you if something happened to him."

Alex's retort was cut off as Kia wandered into the kitchen and raised an eyebrow at the pair, "What the hell are you two up to?"

"None of your concern, cousin. I do, however, advise you to leave the kitchen before my mate tears you to pieces for entering his territory."

Kia jerked her thumb over her shoulder, "Grandfather's looking for you two; he said that you two get first crack at the prisoner once Iraya's done with him

"Wonderful," he replied. Turning to the teen he continued, "Shall we go, my own?"

The Sorcerer crossed his arms over his chest and continued to give his lover the evil eye, dissatisfied with the distraction and still waiting for a proper explanation. Nevertheless, the blonde followed after his irksome mate to the very bowels of the castle to what appeared to be modernized dungeons.

When they entered the sterile interior they were presented with the sight of Iraya straddling the black clothed man, fangs sunk deep into his throat. The man shuddered every time the vampiress sucked at the puncture wounds.

"What the hell, Iraya?" Yassen exclaimed, rushing over to pull the woman off before she drained the prisoner dry.

Only to be stopped by his grandfather, "Easy Yassen, she is merely reading his memories, she'll stop before he's empty. Maybe."

Both dragons startled when they heard the crash of Iraya throwing the bound captive into the wall. "Those ungrateful brats! I'll slaughter the lot of them!" she screeched, betrayal and sorrow leaking through the rage. Blood dripping from her mouth the angered woman turned on the pale haired men who looked on in shock and roared, "Get the fuck out of my way!" before throwing them aside and storming out of the room.

The group didn't have the opportunity to question her until dinner that night; both she and Snake vanished until nightfall. However during her absence Peng and Yassen had begun their own interrogation of their newest prisoner and had been rewarded with disappointing results. As things settled down and the group waited for the doctor to finish cooking dinner Alex took this opportunity to check his lover over for any injuries, and promptly discovered a massive bruise spreading across his back.

'Bruise' was an understatement; it was more a massive black and purple monstrosity that ranged from mid-neck to the upper area of the assassin's buttocks. A touch test along the spine that had the Russian biting his lip to stifle his pained moan showed that several vertebrae had slipped from their normal position.

"Well, I'm shocked that you can even stand; Dr. Peng is going to need to fix your back," the teen announced.

Said doctor looked up from his cooking, "How bad is it?"

"Let's just say that a spine shouldn't resemble a sidewinder this much. Come over here and I'll finish dinner."

When the Rider stood to walk to the kitchen Fox and Wolf leaned over to get a look at whatever the teen had been talking about and winced; not a pretty sight at all, they both decided. The Asian needed only to glimpse his grandson's back before ordering, "Go lay on the living room table; I will straighten your back but you are not going to like it." The assassin groaned unhappily before standing carefully and shuffling to his perceived doom, followed shortly by the elder who was shaking his head in exasperation.

The youth raised his hand and slowly lowered one finger at a time: 5, 4, 3, 2, 1...A deep voice screaming in agony echoed from the adjacent room. Mrs. Jones, who had been dozing in a bar chair with her head on the counter jerked upright and looked about the room wild-eyed for the source of the noise.

The older _lóng_ walked sedately back into the kitchen. "Alexander, Yassen will not be able to sit at the table or even upright for that matter. Would you please eat with him in the living room?" The gold-eyed man nodded before dishing out enough for him and his mate to share.

When the teen entered the living room he spied his mate lying on the couch, eyes closed and face twisted slightly in discomfort. Quietly the ex-spy set the dishes down on the table and sat next to his lover, stroking the soft, pale hair away from Yassen's forehead affectionately before placing a soft kiss against it. "You know, I've realized something since you brought me here," Alex whispered, earning a soft grunt from the assassin, "you have some of the worst luck I have ever seen." The Russian cracked one of his eyes open to give his beloved a baleful glare even as said lover snuggled into his side, obviously intent of getting some sleep after the stress of the day.


	25. Chapter 24

**Author's Note**:

MegaCon was AWESOME! Seriously, it was great despite the shear amount of furries, Hetalia cosplayers (I have nothing against Hetalia but the number was ridiculous), and nu!Trekkies (who have no idea how great TOS was and are totally missing out on some quality slash). Anyway, I have this super cool Kirk/Spock slash badge and it is soooooooooo cute! (I also have more pron but that's not the point.) On to a more serious matter: Where are all my favorite reviewers (not that I don't love all of you, but these guys have been here since the beginning)? Writertron and Mindofzeus1 (so glad to see you back Insanely Me!): You are MIA and I'm sending out an alert. If you three have tired of this story, please write a review saying such so I can stop worrying (I'm a worrier, live with it). Also, have none of you been able to figure out the quote and its TV show of origin from the last chapter? Really? It's so obvious!

Actually I don't think they're even trying; they probably don't even _read _ the ANs we write… either that or the quality of reader that we have has the collective IQ of a second grader… *gives readers calculating glare*

(Psssst! You might want to take up that insult as a challenge; she sounds pissed. Oh, and as fair warning: This is where the crossover portion of the story begins; if you haven't watched the first episode of Leverage I advise you to go do so. Also, this is where that side story we posted under Leverage - This Isn't Wonderland - syncs up; please go read it.)

**Chapter 24**

In Iraya's room, the proud woman was seated in Snake's lap, crying brokenly. How could her children do this to her? The man in question was holding the ancient woman awkwardly, unused to comforting someone as they sobbed into his shoulder, and to holding someone taller than two feet in his lap. It was a tad disconcerting.

He took a deep breath to rally his composure, "Tell me what's wrong? I can't be an effective pet if I don't know what's wrong with my Mistress."

Iraya sniffed miserably as she straightened from her draped position, "My children betrayed me!"

Snake opened his mouth in a silent 'ah' before what she said finally processed, "Children?"

"A human who has been turned by a vampire is called a 'childe' and the vampire who turned the human is a 'sire'. I have turned many over the centuries but only my most recent two are still alive. Ambrose and Elspeth. I found the two of them half dead in Scotland around December 1874; they were so sweet when they were little. I gave them the choice when they were older to be turned...and now they've betrayed me." She broke into sobs once more, Snake actively trying to comfort her this time.

"Why would they wish to betray you, my lady, and what does the assault this morning have to do with any of it? Is he working for them?" he asked softly, trying to be get information without causing her more pain.

"His name is Saika-me," she dried her tears on a handkerchief she pulled from her pocket. "He's, he's...He's what I could have easily made you into. He's Elspeth's pet like you are my pet though...she took it down a darker path."

Snake thought for a moment before her meaning sank in fully, "He's her slave."

"Yes. When a vampire creates a pet they have the opportunity to mold that person to their will by erasing memories and instilling complete loyalty. They're dolls really; when you empty them of memories you make them into a doll. They've no free will or perception that they should and once did have free will. It's why I've never taken a pet before you, little soldier." She leaned her head into his chest as he carefully ran his fingers through her hair. He was a good pet, maybe in a few centuries he would be a good childe. Maybe.

Snake was lost in thought as he mulled this new information over, if his Mistress' children were responsible for sending the man who had nearly killed them all then there must be something major going on. "Milady... if you were able to get that information from hi- sorry, Saika-me, then you must have also learned of whatever his Mistress has planned. Right?"

She shook her head without looking up, "No. He was only told to eliminate me by any means he desired. Neither Elspeth nor Ambrose told him anything pertinent."

The soldier pressed his lips together in annoyance. "Which means once again we're going to have to risk our lives to save the world," Snake muttered darkly.

"Sounds about right," she murmured sleepily.

A loud knock on the door startled the pair from their thoughts; it was Peng, "Are you two up for dinner? It's lamb stew tonight."

"We're coming," she called back while climbing out of her pet's lap and making herself presentable.

As the pair made their way to the kitchen Snake pondered the implications of what his Mistress had told him. If Iraya's own children wanted her dead, and she was at the top of the proverbial pyramid... "I think your kids are trying to take the Vampire Throne."

"I figured as much but there could be other reasons. It's best not to set your mind on just one idea, though; if you plan for everything you won't be surprised when things change."

"Yeah, but what other logical reason could there be? I mean, they haven't sent any warning letters asking for anything, they haven't tried to kidnap you in order to gain access to your memories and vast knowledge, all they've tried to do is murder you and everyone else in this house."

"They are my children and I have more than just the throne," she replied softly.

"Such as?" The soldier prompted as they entered the dining room and settled in their customary positions.

"Have you ever wondered why you don't hear more about the supernatural outside of the telly or crackpots?"

"Because, as a whole, humans are ignorant and don't wish to believe in things they see as 'mythical'," Eagle stated, deadpan as he poked uninterestedly at his stew.

"Not quite. There is a massive bit of magic anchored to the Seven Sages that blinds humans - well, most humans anyway - to the supernatural. It also prohibits access to certain areas of the magical world to anyone not granted permission by the Seven Sages or is actually one of the Seven Sages. This includes the Library at Alexandria, Atlantis, the Castle in the Sky, the Yggdrasil Tree, and many other places of great power. Li and I are two of the Seven. One way to become a member is to be a descendent of the Sage that dies or is killed," she explained patiently.

Kia blinked and looked up at the vampiress curiously, "So if someone kills Grandfather, Yassen and/or I would become Sages?"

"Yassen would, yes. It goes to the oldest living direct descendent," the older dragon answered. "Ira, why bring this up?"

"Because it's one possibility. The prisoner in the basement is Saika-me, Elspeth's pet. My children have decided they no longer need me as their sire, Li."

Peng frowned at this announcement and set his spoon down in order to steeple his fingers as he mulled what he knew of Iraya's children over in his brain. What he knew didn't paint a terribly flattering picture. The vampiress saw her old friends look, "Don't start, Li. Just...not right now." The sorrow she'd been concealing glimmered in her eyes for but a moment before it was hidden once more. Snake sent a glare at the Chinese man; he'd just managed to calm his Mistress down and the old guy was upsetting her again.

The dragon ignored the young man and turned to Mrs. Jones, "Would it be possible to utilize some of your men for a highly dangerous mission?"

She looked at him warily and crossed her arms, "I want a detailed mission plan beforehand - like I would expect from any regular member of MI6." The woman ignored the snort from Rider's direction.

Peng shook his head at the agent's declaration and turned to his grandson, "Who do you know and trust from your early years? Before you became SCORPIA's best."

"There is one man, Grandfather. He's a retrieval specialist now working with a team out of Boston, Massachusetts in America. His 'boss' is Nathan Ford...I doubt they know that man as well as they think they do...They could be of use." He shrugged and silently prayed to whatever deity existed that his angel didn't find out about his one-off with the hitter; he didn't need his mate thinking he was trying to stir up an old fling. Alex watched his lover closely as the older man spoke; he was hiding something from the teen and he really didn't appreciate it. As Yassen stood from the table, intending to give the Southerner a call, the Sorcerer followed closely behind. The blonde watched silently as the Russian dialed a number and waited for the person on the other end to pick up.

He waited a pause, Nathan Ford had answered the phone, "I wish to speak with Eliot Spencer if you don't have him paralyzed or tied up, Mastermind." Another pause, "Spencer, it's Gregorovich."

This time the assassin yanked the phone from his ear as the American yelled, "Gregorovich? What the hell? Ya shoot me in the leg and leave me to die and ten years later ya just call me up? WHAT THE FUCK!"

The ex-spy tried to muffle his...giggling; Yassen's look of pain - the hitter could **screech** - was rather amusing. The blue-eyed man glared before answering, "My apologies, Spencer, but I was wondering if you and your team would be interested in something..."

He could hear a scuffle on the other end before Ford responded, "This is where you talk to me, Gregorovich."

After laying out the basics of what their rough idea of a plan for taking down the vampire coup, Ford agreed that he and his team would be flying out to Romania. They made tentative plans for the assassin to pick them up sometime next week before Yassen hung up the phone with a sigh of relief. Sometimes it was a wonder the majority of the world believed Nathan Ford to still wear a white hat.

"Why are you so afraid of him, Dragon?" the Brit asked as he embraced his mate from behind.

The mutt sighed as he thought back on his few encounters with Mastermind. "He is the closest thing that I have ever seen to a killing machine that was not trained to be that way. He cannot connect himself to others because he sees them as nothing more than large, moving chunks of meat to be played with."

"And he plays Robin Hood?" the Sorcerer's eyes were wide with disbelief.

"Yes. From the sounds of things, Eliot Spencer is his lover and he's...protective of him but is also willing to torture Spencer if he so inclined." The older man paused long enough to turn around embrace his mate, "Don't ever allow yourself to be alone with him; promise me that, _Ангел мой."_

Alex nuzzled Yassen's chest and mumbled a soft affirmative. After a few moments the pair broke apart and returned to the dining room to give the good news to the rest of their bizarre family.

"The Leverage team will fly over later this week. I must warn you to not allow yourselves to be alone with Nathan Ford," the Russian informed.

All but Mrs. Jones nodded in understanding, "Why would you say that Mr. Gregorovich? I have met Mr. Ford on several occasions while he was busy chasing down thieves in England. I see no reason for there to be any extra caution used around him."

The younger dragon rubbed his eyes exasperatedly, "Have you ever heard of 'The Mastermind'?"

"Of course, he terrorized Europe and America for years."

"Do you know the details of what he did to his victims?"

Jones paused as she ran through her mental filing cabinet on the subject, "Chemically paralyzed, tortured to death over a series of days, sometimes weeks. What does this have to do with Nathan Ford?"

"Nathan Ford **IS** Mastermind; he's very good at pretending to be someone he's not. You probably thought he was charming and maybe a little eccentric; he's not. He's perfectly human but there isn't a shred of humanity left within him."

Jones scoffed at the assassin's statement; she didn't believe him in the least bit, she had met Ford, he was harmless. Her expression reflected her skepticism and made Yassen sigh in exasperation.

"Angel, would you please go into the armory and retrieve the documents pertaining to Ford from the filing cabinet. Third from the right, second drawer from the bottom..." Alex was quick to comply; he was out and back before his mate had time to fully sit down. The file itself was bulging, almost falling apart it was so large and the ex-spy handled it carefully, fearing that it would fall apart and screw up the assassin's impressive research.

There were multiple smaller files within the larger one; he noisily tossed the files on the table with each following city, "London, Manchester, Glasgow, Aberdeen, Dublin, Paris, Bordeaux, Marseille, Milan, Venice, Rome, St. Petersburg, Kiev, Moscow, Beijing, Macau, Hong Kong, Tokyo, Kyoto, and every one of the states in the United States of America. Each one of these files is a Mastermind case and every time Ford is in the city of the murder at the time of the murder. And if that hasn't convinced you, then you should know that SCORPIA had an avoidance order on Ford; all operatives were to avoid Nathan Ford at all costs."

Stunned silence followed Gregorovich's announcement as the proof sank into the MI6 agents' and soldiers' heads. Alex shifted in discomfort at his lover's actions; it was frightening to think that the man who had been frightening enough to threaten SCORPIA would be arriving at his home in short order.

"How is this in any way a good idea? He's a bloody psychopath-" Wolf started before Yassen interrupted.

"His team will be with him and he seems to behave as long as Eliot Spencer is with him. I don't want any of you alone with him as a precaution; if he decides to act on his homicidal urges he likely won't go for any of the women, Grandfather, or Alex. His preference is to break strong, athletic men; as in any member of K-Unit."

Crawley finally spoke softly, "I understand your worry but... how do we know that his team will actually cooperate with us? From all that you have said he doesn't seem the type to willingly work with a presumed-dead assassin, the English government, nor any magical creatures of which I don't think he even realizes exist. How do you expect us to trust a psychopath?"

"I don't expect you to trust him; his team, from all data available, is trustworthy unless you are the mark."

"I suppose there will be no way for either of us to decide one way or the other until they arrive and we are able to meet them and make a decision." The senior agent sighed and motioned for the Russian to continue.

"When they arrive we'll make further plans on how to deal with Ambrose and Elspeth; until then, every day is just another day." He rubbed his temples; the headache was rapidly becoming a migraine. "Can we please eat now?" Peng smiled at his grandson as the old man and Iraya began setting the food on the table and motioned for everyone began to dig in hungrily.


	26. Chapter 25

**Author's Note**:

I'm a little disappointed with the review turnout; you guys ask for updates, we give them, and then we get one or no reviews. It's all really sad; truly, really sad – especially since Blaid (who is not _my_ kind of fun-crazy) was the only one to review. So, unless we get no less than ten reviews on this chapter, you're not getting an update next week. And this isn't greed talking; this is merely two authoresses who miss hearing feedback from people who enjoy their work. I'm serious about this threat; I can easily just read fanfiction all day Saturday and let you all squirm. (I do, slightly, apologize for my attitude but you try taking five college classes at once where two of them are labs and one is a language and not end up cranky.)

**Chapter 25**

"Well, well, well; the street rat has grown up. It's been a while since I saw you; you don't look like a skeleton anymore," Nathan Ford, the serial killer 'Mastermind', teased as he spotted the slim man and a young blonde moving towards him and his team through the busy throngs of the airport. Even Nate could appreciate why Eliot had been so taken with the man when they had first met now that he saw exactly what the little pickpocket had grown into.

A guarded look fell over the assassin's face, "Have we met?"

"Ah, you've forgotten me. Let me refresh your memory: Moscow, oh, almost twenty-four years ago now, you tried to pick my pocket and I almost stabbed you." When he continued to draw a blank expression from the Russian the killer continued, "I knocked you in the head after you bit me and turned you over to SCORPIA..."

The assassin's eyes widened in recognition before rage filled them, "You-!" He was stopped by a pair of arms wrapping around his waist.

"We need his help, Dragon. You can kill him after we save the world," Alex whispered in his mate's ear, standing on his toes to speak.

Eliot watched the interaction with silent interest even as Sophie moved to Nate's side and whacked him on the arm sharply, "I don't think it's a very good idea to be taunting an assassin, Nate." Hardison piped in his own agreement with the Brit's statement as Parker stared at Yassen in curiosity.

"He's cute," Parker told the Russian, motioning to the teen beside him. "He yours?" She poked the ex-spy's forehead only to giggle childishly when Alex tried to bite her finger.

Yassen growled lowly at her and tugged Alex gently as he lead the five criminals back to the large truck he had unearthed from his garage. He made sure to time it so that Nate was still standing when he gunned the engine.

"That was rather petty, Gregorovich. When can I expect this to end?" the thief asked, picking himself off the floor.

"Afterwards, when he puts a bullet through your brain for sending him to SCORPIA. You're very lucky that he's thankful SCORPIA led to me or he'd torture you for days," the youth replied as he leaned around the passenger seat to speak. "Well, there is the possibility that I'll kill you first if you even think of harming anyone in my home or if you dare to enter my kitchen. Keep in mind that I will know what you're thinking the moment you think it."

There was silence in the truck for a few seconds before Parker launched her arms around Alex's shoulders and pulled him into a crushing hug while squealing, "You are so CUTE!"

Parker, sit down; yer pissin' off the driver," Eliot growled, yanking the blonde back into her seat. Yassen caught the hitter's eye in the rearview mirror and gave him a miniscule nod of thanks before returning his focus to the dirt road in front of him. The rest of the drive seemed to be Parker's antics on a continuous loop; if it wasn't her professing the British teen's cuteness it was some other crazy action that was driving the Russian up the wall and towards murder.

Eliot, for the most part, was able to keep her under a modicum of control for short periods of time but when the Leverage team got their first look at chateau de Gregorovich and the bizarre cast arranged on the front lawn waiting for them even the hyper blonde sat still.

"Oh wow, this place is gorgeous!" the grifter exclaimed as she clasped her hands to her chest.

When the truck pulled to a stop Yassen leaped from the driver's seat gratefully and promptly started pulling the Leverage team's bags from the back; unceremoniously letting them fall heavily to the ground. No one argued against his treatment of their luggage; Nate merely chuckled.

As Yassen finished unloading the truck his grandfather moved to greet the newly arrived 'help' as he called them. "Greetings Leverage, Inc. I have heard quite a lot about your exploits. I welcome you to my grandson's home."

"All of them?" Hardison asked warily.

"Yes, **all** of them; including of those before you came together as a team."

The hacker coughed and shuffled uncomfortably as he thought back on his rather...unprofessional teenage years. Sophie on the other hand took an immediate shine to the older man. "You know so much about us and yet we know nothing of you except that you have a grandson who owns this beautiful mansion."

"And it's going to remain that way, grifter. Keep your tricks to yourself," Alex paused to look at his fellow Brit. "And yes, I **can** read your mind." The grifter sniffed before sashaying past the teen and older man towards the group behind Dr. Peng; their glares ranged from outright hostile, to overly suspicious, to utter apathy. The elder, however, turned his attention to Nate.

"Tell me, can I trust you enough to behave, Mastermind. Or do I need to make...arrangements to keep my kith and kin safe?" the dragon queried, is tone pleasant while his eyes betrayed an iron will. Nathan held up his hands in a placating gesture. Even he could sense something was not quite right with the Asian. Silently the leader lifted his bags and asked, politely, where his room would be.

"Alexander and Wolf will show you and your team to your rooms. We will discuss plans in the morning. Dinner is at seven and breakfast is at eight; either be there or miss the meal. Alexander is quite...testy about wasting food." Kia snorted at that as did K-unit, but they dutifully carried out the tasks they had been assigned without complaint.

A few hours later the sixteen men and women gathered at the dining table over a meal of beef stew and fresh greens to learn of each other. 'To learn of each other' was an understatement: Yassen was edgy having his ex and mate in the same room, the last Rider was giving him and the hitter suspicious glances, Kia was hormonal while Iraya was morose. K-Unit, Mr. Crawley, and Mrs. Jones were either hostile or apathetic while the members of Leverage Inc. were having their own issues: Hardison was nervous being in a new environment while Parker was simply crazy; Sophie was in a snit from the ex-spy's earlier insult; Eliot was trying to find a comfortable seat after the impromptu torture/sex session with Nate while said madman was grinning in amusement at the fiasco of a dinner.

It was a full half hour before Parker's curiosity dam finally burst, allowing for an outpouring of personal questions all wrapped into one: "How do you all know each other?"

"Parker, drop it," Eliot half drawled, half growled.

But unfortunately this had left the gates free for Alex to pose his own question...directly at his mate. "I'm actually a tad curious about that as well, Yassen. You told us quite a lot about Mr. Ford here," the teen gestured at the older man who had paused with his fork halfway to his mouth, "but you never did fully explain how you and Eliot actually met. Well?"

"_Sashka_, if you are truly curious we will talk about this later. I dislike telling information to strangers for free," the Russian answered, sitting back and folding his arms defensively.

Alex relented but Parker did not, "But we're not going to be strangers much longer. I mean, you're the one who called us, and so far you haven't been very forward with any information at all."

"If you wish to know of my exploits as an assassin, talk to Interpol. If you want to know what I am capable of ask any of the Brits to your left. If you want to know my personal history you are out of luck; cease questioning me."

The thief shut her mouth quickly when the fearsome look the killer was giving her penetrated her impressive air of insanity and hit on a nerve of self-preservation. Nate, however, was not so charitable, he turned to Crawley with a blasé smile, "So, what has our host achieved since I dropped him on SCORPIA's doorstep?"

"Where to start? There isn't a terrorist organization SCORPIA hasn't loaned him out to and he has over two hundred confirmed kills that we are aware of. MI6 has numerous 'reports' of other activities such as theft and interrogation that are rather...sketchy for wont of a better term. Anything more detailed and I would need his file," the agent replied, stirring the stew aimlessly with his spoon.

Nate's lips twitched into a sardonic smile at the old agent, he could tell the man was nothing more than a paper pusher. Perhaps in his heyday he had been the best of the best, but now he was nothing more than an old guard dog, waiting for its master to put him down for good.

But his statement had piqued the mastermind's interest in the street rat he had doomed: What interesting new things could the brat do now? "I'm sure it's as impressive as you've hinted at, perhaps," Ford turned his gaze upon Yassen, "the one who achieved the reputation of 'number one assassin' would be so kind as to have a discussion about it with me after dinner. Hm?"

"No; Mr. Ford, if you want information on Yassen then have your hacker look up his record. I can throw you farther than I trust with my fiancé; especially since I know your record," the teen replied, not allowing his mate to speak. In his mind, if the younger _lóng_ wasn't going to let him be in a room alone with Nathan Ford, then he wasn't going to allow the Russian alone with the murderer.

"Record?" Sophie asked, confused, "What record would a hardened killer have to worry about from Nate? He's practically harmless!"

Eliot winced at the sudden pressure the Mastermind was putting in his upper thigh at Sophie's flippant remark. Parker and Hardison, however, were just as keen to know what the hell Alex was talking about. Silently the hitter glanced plaintively at the assassin, begging him to diffuse the situation without any blood being drawn. "Perhaps," Yassen stated carefully, "this conversation would be better left for after dinner, in the library." The killer's winter gaze met Nate's, "Information for information. Does that sound reasonable, Mastermind?"

"Fine, Gregorovich. I've been meaning to tell them anyway; Eliot already knows...some - not everything such as you've managed to put together. This will be fun." His smile was reminiscent of the love child of Captain Hook's crocodile and the Cheshire Cat; and completely malicious. Eliot winced again as the serial murderer dug his nails into the hitter's thigh.

The remainder of the meal was steeped in tense, eager, silence as the men and women who were supposed to be comrades finished their respective bowls (three, in Kia's case) before proceeding towards the library. Once all parties were comfortably seated, Ford asked, "So, who wants to go first?"

Peng leaned back in his overstuffed chair comfortably and motioned to Nate imploringly, "You are the one who wishes to know of my grandson, therefore, you are the one who must give the first show of faith."

"As you wish. You've all heard of the serial killer called 'Mastermind', correct?" He paused for their nods of assent before continuing, "Well, to be blunt: I am Mastermind. I would also like to point out that Mr. Gregorovich and Interpol's data on me is inaccurate; by that, I mean they're missing majority of my kills."

Yassen shrugged nonchalantly at Nate's statement while Sophie, Hardison, and Parker stared at their leader in utter shock. "Nate... you can't be serious." The grifter shook her head and pulled a smile onto her face as if it were all a big joke.

"He's not lyin, Soph'," the previously silent Southerner drawled.

"Eliot, this isn't funny; Nate's harmless. He couldn't harm a fly!" she retorted, standing angrily. The retrieval specialist winced as the 'harmless' man next to him dug his nails into the hitter's thigh, right where a rather vicious bite mark was concealed under his pant leg.

"Eliot, strip for dear Sophie," the older brunet ordered, releasing his lover's thigh. Every muscle in the long haired man's body tensed, he had been conditioned to obey Nate's orders without question but...deep rooted instincts from long before he had ever met the murderer refused to let him do as his lover commanded. "Pet, you will not like the consequences for disobeying me; you know that after all this time." When the shorter male remained seated, he continued, as quiet and menacing as before, "I didn't leave the box in Boston, pet."

Slowly Eliot lifted his shirt revealing the bruises, lacerations, and vicious bite-marks that littered his torso. Once his shirt had been removed he made no further motions to continue undressing, consequences be damned. He clenched his eyes shut; this was just like when Nate used the paralytic on him: No control, no power...just completely helpless to do as his master ordered and pray it was enough to earn him a reprieve from the torture and humiliation. He hated this more than anything but Ford had long since instilled in the Southerner the need to submit and, at this point in his life, what choice did he have?

As Eliot's mind warred with itself, Alex and Snake could feel the rising tension in the room. Waves of tortured pain came from Eliot as sadistic bloodlust emanated from Nathan; while the ex-spy coped by turning to his mate, the emotions became too much for Snake and he rushed from the room, barely able to make it to the bathroom in time. He didn't notice his Mistress had entered the room until she brushed the soldier's hair from his neck to place a cool, wet washcloth on it before rubbing a soothing hand down his back.

"Calm yourself, child. Ease your concentration, relax, let you mind close itself off for a bit," Iraya murmured softly as Snake continued to retch in the porcelain bowl. Her words helped and his vomiting eased until a monster wave of anger rushed in from the parlor they came from. It took the soldier a moment to realize that the anger was Yassen's, which surprised him, and that if things weren't brought to a halt quickly then there would be bloodshed.

After Snake and the High Lady had made their rushed exit Evee, who had been preparing tea and coffee for the adults, arrived silently just in time for the grifter to screech. "What the hell, Eliot! What happened to you?"

Eliot lowered his head slightly and stared down at his shoes, Nate answered for him, "I told you, Sophie, I am Mastermind and sometimes playing the white hat is just a tad too tiresome. So I take it out on Eliot, who willingly submits to me, to take the edge off." The look of utter disbelief on the Brit's face told them all well enough that she didn't believe him. Her retort to what she viewed to be insanity was never to be known as the grand, sweeping gesture she began caught the edge of the tray that Evee had been quietly bringing to her mama and papa and flipped the metal platter directly into the child's face. There was a split second of silence as all eyes watched the girl fall backwards and the spurt of blood as the metal disk dropped to the floor. Next thing the brunette woman knew she was being hoisted off her feet by an enraged Russian who was growling low and furious.

"You dare touch her?" he snarled menacingly while he peripherally noted his mate caring for their daughter. "I should kill you for harming her."

A large hand suddenly closed on his shoulder in the same instant the assassin felt the familiar prick of a sharp knife being lined up with his spinal column. "Put her down, Yassen. 's not worth it," Eliot's heavy drawl was laced with a calm threat.

The Russian's chuckle was dark, "Go ahead and see how well that knife will work on me, Spencer. It should be interesting."

"Yassen!" Peng's voice was firm but not overly concerned, "Put her down and you and Alexander can take Evee to go clean her up. Now."

The killer dropped her before gathering his daughter and mate; he paused at the doorway to throw in one last sentence, "If you ever harm her again, Sophie Devereaux, I will kill you regardless of my grandfather's wishes."

The assassin turned away from the gathering and brushed past Snake who felt an almost overwhelming wave of rage before the older man was gone entirely. The grifter stood and dusted herself off before turning to the hitter, "Eliot, why would you let Nate do..." She waved her hand to indicate the state of the Southerner's body.

He shrugged slightly as he retook his seat beside the mastermind and reached for his discarded shirt, "Conditionin' mostly. Got so used to it, it's now ingrained in me to obey him...mostly," Eliot added the last part as a mumble but the slight puckering of Nathan's lips spoke of immediate disapproval.

"I've been working on that; this disobedience is rather irritating in certain situations..." the madman trailed off before turning from his lover towards the Asian. "Now, explain about what Yassen Gregorovich has been doing between the time I dropped him off with SCORPIA and now - don't leave out the explanation about why he wasn't afraid of my pet's knife."

Peng brushed an imaginary speck of dust from his knee before giving a polite, if mocking smile to the man, "Your deal is with my grandson, not me. I have no obligation to tell you anything." He rose from his chair and indicated the others do the same, "You may want to tend to your team; you seem to be having domestic troubles."

Ford's face went white with rage as an enrage gleam appeared in his eyes, "You-" he was cut off as Eliot squeezed his bicep carefully. That small action brought the leader of the Leverage team back to his mind abruptly. His mask slipped easily into place as he turned to regard the youngest of the team. "Was there anything the two of you wanted to know?"

Hardison spoke up as K-Unit, Kia, and the two agents followed the elder out, "Why'd you lie to us, Nate? Thought we all trusted each other."

"I never lied to any of you. At least…not directly. I kept that particular part of my life quiet in order to avoid certain...difficulties that may have arisen because of it. But, now we're a team who've been together for a few years now, I thought it might be time you all knew."

Parker appeared thoughtful before she bounced up and plopped into the leader's lap. "Knew there was something familiar about you!" she squealed, childishly hugging the sociopath while Eliot and Sophie looked on in horror - the male brunet for different reasons than the female brunette.

Nate patted the young woman on the top of her head, gently, before carefully pushing her off and giving the horrified pair a playful smirk. Turning to Hardison, Nathan waited patiently for the hacker to finish processing everything.

"So, you've like, killed a bunch of people for no reason at all?" he asked.

"Three hundred, twenty-six."

"Huh?"

"I've killed three hundred and twenty-six people," serial killer clarified.

Alec stared at the older man with his mouth hanging open for a few moments, "Would you ever kill me?"

"No."

"Parker?"

"Mmm, probably not, no."

"Alright. Nice to meet the actual you." The hacker held out his hand and Nathan shook it firmly.

"How can you be accepting of all this?" Sophie all but screeched. "He's killed people and enjoyed it!"

"Soph, just stop." She faced the Southerner. "He's always bin like this; if ya want, he'll probably pretend to be how ya've always known him but this is Nathan Ford, the one and only 'Mastermind'. Ya can't change the past and ya can't change Nate; just learn to live with it. 'Cause, if ya don't, he may just have to kill ya and ya don't want that kind of attention from him - trust me." Sophie sputtered for a few moments before turning huffily on her heel and marching out of the room. There was a distinct pause before Nate took a deep breath, "Well, that went well."


	27. Chapter 26

**Author's Note**:

I was sooooooo happy at the amount of reviews! Seriously, it makes a girl smile to know that people are actually reading and enjoying a story she spent hours slaving away on…Which actually makes me feel bad about this next part…

My co-authoress pointed out to me that none of you respond to her ANs but fairly quickly respond to mine. She supposes that you all think I'm crazy and she's some figment of my imagination. She's not, I'm crazy but I'm not that crazy, truly. She and I went to high school together and started co-authoring stories then; it's continued to present day. Sho-dono is actually rather sad that none of you seem to care for her and, frankly, I'm a little peeved myself – I do NOT talk to myself in conversation format, thank you very much. She's decided not to comment for a few chapters (I'm thinking she wants you all to beg but that's just me guessing).

See? I feel bad about having to scold all or you when you wrote such fabulous reviews without calling me a review-whore (which might be slightly justified) but I had to point out that I'm not bat-shit crazy and that Sho-dono isn't a figment of my imagination; I would have all these bruises on the back of my head from her equivalent of a Gibbs-slap if she was. Anyway, enjoy the chapter; the next chapter isn't finished yet so you'll have to bear with us…It's college exam crunch time and all.

**Chapter 26**

After the chaos of the night before the next morning was surprisingly normal...well, as normal as a house full of spy's, mythical creatures, soldiers, and a bunch of criminals could be. When Sophie walked down the stairs into the dining room, fully intent on confronting Nate, she had to stop and stare at the image before her; Alex and Yassen were sharing a large bowl of mixed fruit at one end of the table while chatting with their adopted daughter, Crawley and Peng were enjoying a silent pot of tea half-way down, and K-unit were digging into heaping portions of pancakes and bacon right alongside Parker and Hardison. Nathan, Eliot, Iraya, Kia, and Ms. Jones were nowhere to be seen.

"Where's Nate?" she asked.

"What? No 'good morning, everyone'? That's rather rude of you, Ms. Devereaux," the last Rider snarked; his moods were...changing at breakneck speeds these days.

"Ira is never up before noon if she can help it, Kia is trying to sleep late enough to avoid morning sickness, and Ms. Jones is in the library trying to educate herself on the current supernatural political situation. If I had to hazard a guess on where Mr. Ford is, I would presume he is wherever Mr. Spencer is - and that is not something I ever want to speculate on, Ms. Devereaux," Peng answered, ignoring Alexander's comment and taking a sip of tea. Turning to the MI6 agent he started a conversation on different herbal teas and their health properties. The grifter turned with an irritated huff and marched from the room, hell-bent on interrogating Nate.

She was unsuccessful, however, even after over an hour of dedicated and methodical searching she returned to the dining room which had, for the most part, emptied during her quest. The only ones who remained were Peng and the older spy who were still sharing that damned pot of tea. With a noise of annoyance the brunette flopped into one of the numerous available chairs near the two elders, she was immediately handed a cup of peach and ginger tea. "Drink," Peng said softly, "you need to relax, Ms. Devereaux, stress is not conducive to a healthy mind or body." She picked up the cup carefully – it was a beautiful piece of china after all – and drank deeply.

"Talking does help the mind process and we two are rather good listeners," the elder Brit offered.

"It's all so confusing," she admitted. "I mean, I've worked with Nate for a few years now and I've known him even longer…"

"Is it the fact that he never told you bothering you the most or is it that he trusted Mr. Spencer more the really issue?" the Asian queried.

"Neither...and both. I don't know; it's just...I thought Nate and I had something special going on and then we come here at the behest of some supposedly-dead assassin and suddenly I don't even know who he is anymore!" The woman sank back in the chair as the dragon refilled her cup.

Crawley nodded in understanding, "There are times when those closest to us are the greatest strangers. That is how life is and always will be. You can spend your entire life with a person and you will always be learning something new about them." The old spy leaned forward and placed his hand comfortingly on the distraught woman's wrist, "But when we discover this new information we accept it as part of whom they are as a whole. Which is what you should do with Mr. Ford else the two of you will find it very difficult to work together ever again." When he finished imparting his hard-earned wisdom into the young woman the brunet sat back in his seat and took another sip of his highly-sweetened drink.

"How can I accept a murderer who enjoys killing, who enjoys torturing people, who tortures Eliot on a regular basis? And Eliot just takes it; Nate has him 'conditioned' to follow orders – that's probably what they're doing now: Further obedience 'conditioning'."

"My grandson is an assassin, my granddaughter is having an SAS soldier's children, my oldest and dearest friend is a vampire who has never cared for human life, and I lost count millennia ago of how many lives I have taken. I have no doubt that the reason Mr. Ford handed my grandson to SCORPIA was because he something of himself in Yassen; I have no doubt that Yassen takes pleasure in causing others pain, but he is still my grandson and I still love him. I have to accept all of who he is or none of him and that is what you have to with Mr. Ford." The dragon sat back in his seat, hiding his hands in his sleeves.

Sophie stared at the white haired man in shock for a moment as she digested his words. They made sense, she had to admit, she, personally, hadn't ever caused another human being harm if she could avoid it, and the sight of blood in general unnerved her. But she worked with Eliot who had probably killed people during his line of work, hell, maybe even while he worked with the Leverage team, and she still accepted him with few objections. She could do the same with Nate...hopefully. "Alright, but I do still need to talk with him. He's not getting out of keeping this part of himself a secret so long that easily." The confidence that normally permeated all of her words had returned with a vengeance.

Crawley chuckled, "That's better. Now, just don't think about what the two are doing and you'll have fewer problems."

The woman blanched slightly while the doctor shook his head, "Do not tease the girl, John; you will end up scarring her poor mind irreparably."

"My apologies; but, seriously, don't think about it."

Peng shook his head at the agent as Sophie stood from the table and moved back to the staircase, "Thank you both for your advice...and for listening to me rant." She smiled as both men lowered their heads in welcome before returning to her search for her missing leader. She had a lot to apologize for...and not just to him.

As the grifter reached the second floor she ran into Kia who was shuffling slowly towards the staircase, hands resting on her swollen stomach as if she were trying to lessen the weight of her unborn children on her back by carrying them in her arms. The pregnant woman cracked open a tired eye and gave her a quick one-over before snorting, "I'm the one who's pregnant and you're the one who looks like shit. What a world, huh?"

The brunette only smiled before continuing up the stairs; it took another half hour for to locate her wayward teammates. They were not in the midst of…intimate acts but were planning a course of action with the Russian, the other members of her team, and K-Unit. She'd only found them because the heated argument spilling out into the hall.

"Are you trying to get us killed?" one British voice yelled.

Yassen snorted and crossed his arms, "I am not. This plan is as good as it is going to get with our limited resources and knowledge of our enemy's fortifications and strengths. You just don't like it because you're being used as bait!"

"You don't want to go in there; they're liable to rend you limb from limb at this point in time."

Sophie jumped in surprise, spinning around only to find Alex Rider behind her. "Don't do that; you'll give me a heart attack." The blonde only rolled his eyes; the grifter took the moment to look the teen over: Small, pale, almost fey in appearance, and exuding an aura of fragility. How could this...boy hold so much sway over Yassen Gregorovich?

The ex-spy shifted his weight and walked past the woman coolly to shut the door to the planning room in order to block out the rising voices coming from inside; apparently the idea of being used as bait did not appeal to Wolf. Without another word, the gold-eyed youth set off down the hallway, casting a glance over his shoulder that said 'come' back at the brunette even as he kept walking, not bothering to check to see if she followed. Sophie trailed after cautiously, he was probably still angry that she had caused the little girl to bleed last night and she would really rather not be caught in a room alone with an angry spy if she could help it.

He didn't deign to reply only continued forward, down the main stairs, out the back door, and into the depths of the garden. The teen's long legs carried him past the curling ferns, clinging vines, and young, reaching branches with ease as he silently lead the grifter into the heart of the intricate and wild yard where he had created his 'spot'. It was a small, half-forgotten, gazebo that was covered almost entirely in ivy. It was a picturesque, secluded area, perfect for carrying out business without prying eyes or ears listening in. A steaming Chinese style tea set was placed in the center of a dark wood table, two chairs on opposing sides.

"Why did you drag me out here, Mr. Rider?"

"To talk. Sit before the tea gets cold, Ms. Devereaux." The ex-spy carefully seated himself in a teak chair and poured two cups.

Sophie stared at him for a moment before blurting, "Why does everyone in this house always insist on drinking tea whenever they talk to someone?"

He gave her a blank stare, "You're British and you don't know the answer to that? It's polite and a person can tell how well a discussion went by observing how much food and drink was consumed."

A small noise of disbelief wormed its way out of the grifter's throat before she could stop it. Once her shock faded she carefully seated herself on the edge of her seat and picked up the offered china and sipped carefully. "What was it you wished to talk about?"

"Your attitude towards those around you has affected my family in ill ways." At her puzzled expression he simplified, "You've caused my family pain because you can't remove your head from the sand long enough to see that you know nothing of the world around you and definitely not the people you work with. So, call this a lesson in life."

"How in the world could my actions have hurt your family? I mean, sure I accidentally caused that little girl to bleed last night but other than that I don't think I've caused all that much harm!"

"'That little girl' is my daughter for one. When you cause issue with your leader he takes it out on my mate, Yassen which causes him to be upset which means that he lashes out or does physical damage to walls. Moreover, you act like everyone here - including your team - is subservient to you and your wishes; you will find that most of the people in this home won't stand for that behavior because it causes stress to those present. Evee is small and easily injured; Kia is heavily pregnant and doesn't need the stress; I have a poor immune system on a good day and stress makes it worse!" He burst into a coughing fit, grasping at his chest in pain. The ex-spy continued when it passed, "You either adjust your holier-than-thou attitude A.S.A.P. or I will for you and you don't want that."

Sophie's mouth could have caught flies with how wide it had opened in indignation, but the dead-eyed glare she received prevented her from voicing her objections. She was perfectly happy with the way she was and no one had ever complained before! So why should she listen to some brat half her age?

"It seems like I haven't made something clear: If you don't change within the next four hours I am going to take a leaf out of my lover's book and show just how well SCORPIA trained me in torture techniques. And, keep this in mind, I don't have to play by the limitations of humans." The woman stood and began to leave when something forced her to sit again and prevented her from moving even her arms.

She stared at the teen as he stood slowly from his chair and walked around to crouch in front of her. "You don't understand because you don't pay attention. I am not a normal human anymore...neither is Yassen, Kia, Snake, Iraya, or Peng. We are what you would call...mythical, almost. Now, I'm going to explain this one...last...time. Get your head out of your _arse_ and learn some mutual respect for your team members." With that Alex stood and left the grifter pinned helplessly to the chair. After a few minutes the simple binding spell wore off and Sophie was set free, but by that time her face was stained with tears.

Hours later, the Leverage team reconvened in the parlor; the other occupants were meeting in a lounge deeper the in manor. Nathan Ford surveyed his fellows with a critical eye and noted that Sophie was more demure than usual.

"Something wrong, Sophie? You're awfully quiet today, especially after your little rant last night."

"It's nothing, Nate," she evaded. Changing the subject she asked, "So, was there a plan hammered out today? I heard quite a bit of shouting so I assumed there was talk of something."

Nathan snorted slightly and cast a glance at Eliot who rolled his eyes in exasperation before answering, "There was a basic plan hammered out, yes, but any attempts to solidify those plans were met with strong opposition from one person or another. So... no, not really, we don't have a plan as of yet."

The Brit bit her lip nervously, "Do you know who we've teamed up? Do truly know what they all are?"

The mastermind frowned at the slightly panicked tone in the brunette's voice and studied her more closely than before; she was shaking. "What's wrong?"

"I had an interesting conversation with Mr. Rider today..." she seemed to grasp for words. "They're not human. They're not human and we have no idea what we're getting ourselves into, Nate."

There was a prolonged pause at the end of the grifter's statement as the rest of the team blinked at her, curiously. Finally Eliot spoke up, "We know. They told us all about it over breakfast this morning. You weren't there and none of us saw you until now so we didn't get a chance to tell you..." The Southerner's slight drawl petered out as Sophie's eyes focused on him with an angered gleam in them.

"You're afraid!" Parker burst out, "Sophie's afraid!"

The Brit sputtered in surprise before trying to pull her poise back together, "I am not afraid. I simply worry that maybe we jumped into this a little too fast is all. I mean, what do they even want our help for?"

"Oh, just to save the world. Some vampire kids smoked something and thought it'd be a good idea to start a coup. No big deal," Hardison deadpanned, he was trying to downplay his discomfort with the situation.

Sophie choked at Hardison's flippant reply, "Vampires? VAMPIRES? We're supposed to fight against Dracula with a group of strangers? Have you all gone INSANE!"

"Dracula died years ago; we're going against Lady Iraya's children," Nate explained, giving a boyish grin. The brunette could only stare at her teammates in stupefied horror before her eyes rolled back into her head and she dropped like a ragdoll.

"Someone go find the good doctor, now," the elder brunet ordered; Eliot and Hardison were quick to comply.

Waking up was a slow process for the grifter, her mind was refusing to process the information that had been thrust upon her and it just wanted to stay asleep. Then she felt a cool, wet cloth being placed on her forehead and her eyes snapped open to see Evee peering down at her curiously, a bandage across the bridge of her nose.

"Mama says you're a closed minded idiot if you fainted at the idea of vampires even after he explained that supernatural things exist," she giggled.

Well that was... blunt. "I didn't faint at the thought of the vampires themselves," she spoke softly, with a definite note of surprise in her voice, "I fainted at the idea of _going up against them._"

"Is it really that surprising? Surely it's not nearly as 'insane' as you think it is," a feminine voice commented from the doorway. It was only then that the British brunette noted that she was in her room and not in the parlor. "Besides, you're not going to be in danger; so what does it matter to you?"

Sophie sat up carefully and gazed at the vampiress carefully, "Not in danger? What are you talking about?"

"There's no need for a grifter in the plan at all; you get to stay cooped up here."

"No! I'm part of the team! I have been since its formation. I'm not going to stay at home like a housewife while the rest of them go out and get themselves killed!"

"A pity; you're useless so you're benched for this fight. Unless you can figure out some way to make yourself useful...my child, Ambrose, has a thing for British brunettes," she smirked; this chit was easier to manipulate than the boys in K-Unit.

"I- I can gather information. I could create a distraction. I could be bait!" She was grasping at straws and she knew it.

"I'll make sure the others know that; maybe they'll be able to find a place for you." Iraya's smirk was anything but comforting. _What_ _have I just volunteered myself for?_, Sophie asked herself.


	28. Chapter 27

**Author's Note**:

Well, it's college exam crunch time; don't expect timely updates. *shrugs* Welcome to the time where I say, "Life is getting in the way." You'll have to just hope Sho-dono and I get time to write the next chapter or it could be as long as a month before you get an update. And, yes, I'm aware of how ridiculously short this chapter is; no need to comment on it. (This isn't meant to be mean; I just really need to pass my exams so I can get those TA jobs next year…)

**Chapter 27**

_Why did I volunteer myself for this?_, Sophie griped mentally. _I'm dressed like a bloody hooker!...Maybe not a hooker but definitely like a high-priced fetish tart_. She was clothed in a skin-tight, black leather cat suit with a dark red bustier and boots. The mark was the CFO for Blackthorn & Moonwood Industries – Elspeth's and Ambrose's largest money-maker; Ambrose was the official CEO. Said CFO, Marcus Skinner, frequented _Leather and Lace_, a secret fetish club that tailored to those with money and a need for discretion that was hidden directly below the very exclusive club, _Cantarella a Bellezza_; where the grifter was waiting to 'get close to the man' as the vampiress had put it while grinning in a smug, sadistic fashion. She'd inserted herself as one Mistress Insidia and was seated at one of the tables awaiting Skinner's arrival.

Sophie shifted in her seat as a cool puff of air brushed over the back of her neck, "You're beautiful," a deep voice rumbled behind her, encouraging her to turn and see the man standing behind her. She could barely conceal her shock when the man turned out to be the vampire Ambrose. He was smiling - no, grinning like a predator about to pounce upon its prey was a better description. Tall, dark haired with English, not, corpse, pale skin and deep blue eyes made Ambrose a handsome, seductive package that Sophie Devereaux strangely...didn't feel any attraction for. For while the man's face was expressing emotion (albeit a rather unholy one) his eyes were devoid of life.

Sophie shifted subtly, allowing the bejeweled necklace, unhappily lent to her by a certain assassin, clasped about her throat to catch the light, and the vampire's attention. As soon as Ambrose's eyes refocused on her she turned away with a taunting smile on her lips...and waited. "Oh, don't turn away, beautiful." The grifter closed her eyes a feigned disinterest. "Come now," he continued, moving so they were once again face to face, "do not be so cruel as to spurn an admirer's compliments."

"An admirer who cannot create a better compliment than simply 'you're beautiful' hardly seems worth it," she teased, turning to the bartender and signaling for another drink. "Pardon a lad who finds your physical appearance so distracting that he cannot even conceive of a better compliment." This time the smile seemed to glimmer fleetingly in the Scot's eyes before fading. "It also happens that my previous praise is utter truth," he added as an afterthought. As Sophie's drink arrived she lifted it daintily by the stem and gave the man a playful, patronizing smile before taking a small over-emphasized sip of her martini.

The midnight haired male sighed pathetically, before settling himself on the stool beside her. "Please, tell me what I can do to get your attention, Mistress."

The grifter just smiled and stood from the artistically carved satinwood bar and swept slowly, languidly towards the dance floor on the level above. After a few steps she paused and glanced back over her shoulder at the still seated man...and winked.

Elsewhere, Wolf was cursing up a storm and Nathan Ford was having trouble concealing his rage; couldn't she just stick to the plan? Yassen watched over the pair's shoulders as Sophie led the vampire onto the dance floor, "Well this is unexpected."

"But doable, Ambrose has always had a thing for brunettes - especially those of the more mature variety," Iraya commented.

Nathan growled, "This isn't part of the plan-"

"Let her do as she sees fit," Eliot muttered, rubbing at his chin thoughtfully, "She hasn't been wrong yet."

"Huh..." the vampiress cocked her head like a curious puppy, "she doesn't find him attractive..."

"What?" the four men chorus as they turn to look at the High Lady with mixed looks of curiosity and disbelief.

"She's not interested in him; the body language is wrong...she...pities him."

Yassen turned back to watch the grifter more carefully and immediately saw what Iraya was talking about, "Let's hope _he_ doesn't figure that out."

The mastermind pursed his lips angrily and clenched Eliot's shoulder hard enough for the hitter to restrain a pained groan. The assassin glanced at the Southerner and killer with a slight frown, "Perhaps it would be best to let Eliot remain without visible bruises for the time being, Ford." There were chips of ice floating along his voice.

"As you wish," he replied, equally as chilly as the Russian.

At the edge of the dance floor Sophie turned back to watch as Ambrose stalked over to her and held out a hand in offering, "Would it please you to honor me with a dance, milady?"

"But of course," she answered teasingly, a hint of faux lust lacing her words. She almost felt bad for doing this to the man - his dead, passionless eyes evoked only pity from her and it was hard to con someone you felt sorry for - but the Brit reminded herself of what he'd done and hardened her resolve. She gave him a sultry smile, "Do I need to punish you...?"

"Ambrose, Mistress; my name is Ambrose and there is no current need for correction. I am yours to command, my lady."

"Hmm, that's unfortunate. You look like you'd be fun." She winked before turning to examine some of the other couples.

A calloused hand gently turned her head back to the vampire, "Please look at me, Mistress."

Sophie looked him up and down with a casual eye before smirking, "Why? There's not much to look at other than expensive fabric and while I do appreciate the effort..." He frowned and a genuine look of hurt crossed his face before it was just as quickly smoothed under a mask of false pouting mixed with indulgence. The grifter lifted her hand and patted Ambrose's cheek gently before taking his wrist, "Buy me another drink?"

He smiled sweetly before escorting her to a private table on the second tier (the room was set up with the Dungeon in the basement – door guarded by two intimidating ex-Mossad agents – a first floor where the 'less affluent' could dance and drink, and an even more exclusive second tier where only those with a platinum or black card could dine). Ambrose pulled back her chair and dramatically bowed as she seated herself; the Brit had to stifle a girlish giggle at his chivalrous behavior.

Once the pair were seated a waiter dressed in close cut leather pants and vest, no shirt, appeared at Ambrose's shoulder and inclined his head slightly, waiting patiently for the vampire to notice him.

"Yes?" he inquired after silently checking with Sophie for permission.

"Would Sir and Madam like to order?" The man inquired politely, silently slipping a notepad and pen from parts unknown and holding them at the ready. Sophie ordered a simple salad for herself while Ambrose ordered himself a Bloody Mary and it was only as the waiter was finishing up taking their orders that he glanced straight at the grifter and with a shock the woman realized that she was looking at Yassen putting his skills to use. The assassin glared slightly at the Brit before slipping away; the vampire was quick to turn his attention to Sophie upon the "waiter's" departure.

"So, Mistress, what do you wish me to do to gain your pleasure?"

She sat back, fingers lightly tapping her lips. She was about to speak, another waiter appeared with a portable phone on a tray. "It is Lady Elspeth," he said simply, extending his arm. Ambrose flinched slightly at the mention of his "sister's" name before he reached out and took the mobile and speaking a simple "Hello?" into the mouth-piece, a look of pain obvious on his face. Sophie was unable to overhear the conversation but the grimace upon the vampire's face was enough to tell her that it wasn't pleasant. After he hung up and handed the cell to the waiter (who also seemed to vanish), she lightly placed her hand on his arm.

She didn't have to say a word before Ambrose spoke, "My sister... she wishes me to return home..." His eyes were glaring a hole in the table when Yassen reappeared with Sophie's salad and Ambrose's drink; it was obvious he'd heard something she had not: there was a note taped beneath the rim of her bowl saying simply "We can use him."

"When does she want you to return?" She smiled fondly, "If you have time, there are some people I would like you to meet."


	29. Chapter 28

**Author's Note**:

It's the long awaited next chapter! Seriously, we're sorry about the wait, truly we are. *looks unapologetic* All the exams are done (sort of; I have to retake one but that's more than you need to know) and while Sho-dono has to take some summer courses (and I have to study and drown myself in an online Biology 101 course – and maybe Intro to Psych…) we have time (and inclination) to actually write. Ah, the joy of summer vacation with a college that actually believes in summer vacation.

Greetings one and all, I, Sho-dono, have deigned to grace you all with my commentary once again thanks mainly to the darling comment from Never-Easy-Live, I'm back and plan on ripping y'all new ones with each successive chapter.

**Chapter 28**

Ambrose agreed to meet Sophie's 'friends' with very little prodding, mostly because he wished to postpone meeting with his sister and partially because the beautiful brunette was driving him utterly mad with longing. However...'this' was not what he'd been expecting.

Nathan glared as Sophie led the vampire into one of the hotel rooms the group had rented in order to keep an eye on things. He was not happy at the sudden change in plan... mostly because it was Yassen who had changed it, but this new plan added a larger amount of variables; it was starting to border on the point where Nate was going to shut it down and pull his team out. Eliot was feeling much the same way as Nathan about the changes but after Nate had thrown the phone across the room in irritation at the assassin's new plan, the hitter had picked it up and had the young dragon explain everything. He didn't trust Yassen, per se, but Eliot understood where he was coming from; the plan would make things easier and more efficient even with the added risks.

Sophie opened the hotel room door and allowed Ambrose to enter before her while glancing behind her to check for the familiar tow-headed killer; she entered only to find that the vampire had stopped mere feet from the doorway. "What in the world are you trying to pull?" Ambrose growled as he continued to glare at the two men within the room, "If this is some sort of gang rape..."

Sophie sputtered for a moment before practically snarling, "No, this is not some kinky gang rape, please, I'm trying to offer something important to you!"

"And that would be?"

"Your sister is trying to kill your sire while simultaneously starting the coup of the century and possibly becoming one of the Sages in the process," the mastermind answered, menace in his tone.

"We're offering you a chance to save your sire, stop the coup, and get out from under your sister's thumb," Sophie interjected smoothly. Ambrose shook his head slightly and backed towards the door.

"You're all insane," he muttered, "There's no way you could ever stop her, no way, none." He was stuck in a panicked loop and before any of them could stop him he turned and wrenched the door open, intent on fleeing, only to freeze at the gun pointed at his head held by the leather clad 'waiter' from the club's restaurant.

"Please, go back inside and sit down. You will listen, quietly, and rationally make a logical decision," the assassin coldly ordered. "Failure to do so will result in a great deal of pain."

The vampire backed away from the gun wielding man and ended up sitting on the bed when his knees hit the edge of the duvet. Eliot raised an eyebrow at Yassen and gave him a once over as the assassin put the Desert Eagle away...somewhere.

Eliot gave the Russian a questioning look and mouthed, 'Desert Eagle, really?' To which Yassen glared, mouthed back, 'Later', and turned his attention back to the vampire, subtly indicating the hitter should do the same.

Ambrose was still shaking and his wide eyes had not left the assassin even as Sophie approached him and gently laid a hand on his arm as she sat beside him. "Look, Ambrose, your sister is trying to cause a lot of harm to a lot of people. With your help we can stop her."

A bubble of hysterical laughter escaped the Scotsman and, when he answered, it was in a thick brogue that revealed his terror, "Ya cannae stop 'er; she'll akill all ya. She's too strong."

Yassen snorted and received a glare from the grifter before she spoke again, "She might at that, but at least we can say we tried to stop her, and who knows, we might actually succeed. But we need your help."

"Let me make this easier: Help now or die now. Those are your options," the blond killer deadpanned.

The brunette pressed her lips together and turned on the assassin, "You are not helping. Either keep quiet or go wait out in the hall!"

Gregorovich's response was to raise his eyebrows and smirk; the, "as if you could make me, idiot" was left to be silently implied. The Brit could only glower in response.

Ambrose huffed a desperate laugh even as his shaking started to calm down and his eyes began looking less wild, "You know that's exactly what my sister said to me when she started this whole thing." He laughed again and lowered his head.

"Ambrose..." The Scot held up his hand, took a deep breath, and quietly said, "What do you want me to do?"

It only took thirty minutes for Nate to outline the basic plan and explain Ambrose's part in it before the mastermind and Sophie escorted the shaken vampire back down to his car while Eliot and Yassen observed from the room's balcony. They were watching their newest assets Porsche drive down the street when the hitter started in on his earlier question, "A Desert Eagle, really? You couldn't have brought a smaller gun?"

The Russian frowned, "You bring a small gun when you're threatening a human. You bring a big gun when threatening a vampire. Larger gun with larger ammunition leaves a much bigger hole when you shoot something."

"Then why not a sawed-off shotgun? Much more practical than that hand-cannon ya brought."

The killer gave a pointed glare, "Can you even fathom how uncomfortably tight these pants are or is that beyond your comprehension?"

Eliot glanced at the leather pants appraisingly and admitted to himself that there was absolutely no way to hide a shotgun without it being overly obvious. "So then where do ya keep the Eagle?"

Yassen smirked and pushed himself from his slumped position on the rail and turned to go back in the room with a simple, "Wouldn't you like to know."

"You screwed up, Sophie," Nate growled out, clenching and unclenching his fists. A chill ran down the grifter's spine and she silently started praying that Eliot would appear to calm the sadist.

"Nate..." she took a surreptitious step away from the mastermind and crossed her arms.

"You were supposed to stick to the plan: Target the accountant, gain his trust, and get him to help us take down both siblings. Instead, you cozy up to one of our end goals and bring him to where we were staying. How stupid can you get?"

"Look, I saw a chance to take down the one who is actually causing the trouble. You saw him! He's terrified of his sister! What, were we supposed to take the innocent sibling down along with the evil one?"

Immediately the brunette realized her mistake when the look of insanity and unquenchable rage appear in Nathan Ford's eyes. He slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a syringe filled with what the Brit assumed was the infamous paralytic. She backed away, hands raised in the universal sign for "please don't hurt me" until Sophie's back hit the wall. "Please don't do this, Nate."

At that moment Eliot descended the stairs and saw what was happening, "Nate," he called calmly, catching the killer's attention. "Leave Sophie be, it's time for bed." The hitter let a suggestive tone slip into his voice and watched with a mixture satisfaction and dread as understanding dawned over the other's face.

Mastermind kept the manic grin and crazy gleam in his eyes as he approached the retrieval specialist, "You won't be able to leave the bed without help tomorrow, pet."

Eliot lowered his head slightly and sighed. "Figured that out already," he muttered as Nate lead him back up the stairs.

Elsewhere, Yassen was Skyping with Alex to inform the ex-spy about the impromptu plan changes and the 'close-call' he'd overheard with Mastermind. "This is the exact reason I never want you to be alone with Nathan Ford, _Ангел мой_," the assassin intoned.

Alex nodded in understanding, "I get it, Yassen, but at least things are progressing, even if it's not quite the way we thought they would." He paused for a moment and tilted his head slightly, "And I know it should be obvious to me, but why in the world are you wearing a leather vest?"

"The fetish club required it as uniform; there are even leather pants and leather boots. I'm not looking forward to removing them after six hours in a room with little A.C. exasperated by gyrating bodies."

A muscle in Alex's jaw twitched, "I want to see."

Yassen smiled indulgently, "Not tonight, Alex, Hardison is here," he shifted the camera slightly to show the hacker lounging on his bed before turning it back to himself. Goodnight, love."

Alex pouted slightly but agreed, "Night, Yassen, come home safe."

"I will." The assassin reached up and turned the camera off followed by the computer before turning around in the swivel chair to look at Hardison who gave him a silent once over.

"Any idea at all how you're getting that get-up off?"

"Not a clue."


	30. Chapter 29

**Author's Note:**

Well…life is so strange when I've nothing to do but get in fights that seem irrational and trivial but aren't and have symbolic subtext plebs like my mother (why is she still trying to fix things for me when I'm old enough to vote?) can't understand with my crazy sister (and not the good crazy, either). Sleep sounds nice…a dream that lasts until college starts back up again…that sounds wonderful. *curls up in a ball and sleeps*

*Pats her co-authoress on the head* Never thought I'd live to see the day when you actually look forward to going back to school. Anyway, since Shiinmaru-dono is suffering from 'emo-brain' syndrome at the moment I'll give you all the bad news: This story is almost complete. I think we have, at most, one or two chapters left to go before the end.

BUT DO NOT FRET, my darling plebs, for we have a sequel planned and will be in the process of writing it… whenever the hell Shiin's feeling better I suppose, but we are bringing in a larger cast and insanity of the good kind is sure to abound. Now ON WITH THE FIC! (And for those of you wondering at my verbosity: I'm sick with food poisoning from my school's café and am slightly high from pain killers.)

*Looks back at pathetic lump that is Shiinmarup-dono* _Sigh._ *Get's big fluffy blanket and milk and cookies for depressed friend* You owe me for this.

**Chapter 29**

The morning light brought only terror to Scottish vampire, Ambrose, when before it had brought lazy satisfaction of a night well spent. The first rays reminded the man that he was about to help a group of humans stage a coup against his sister. He ran a hand through his very tousled hair and sighed, "This isnae gon'a end well; ah can feel it in ma bones..."

A slight sound at his door drew his attention from his misery as one of the many servants of the house entered carrying a large tray stacked with his morning blood and clothing. "Good morning, sir." She spoke quietly, fearfully, they all did. It may have been his sister that did most of the atrocities but he never tried to stop her and because of that the 'help' tended to assume he acted similarly. He watched her silently set out his suit for the day and set the decanter of blood and a glass on his bedside table before she shuffled out of the room, head bowed, giving him a very good view of the dark bruises on the back of her neck. The door closed once more and he sighed; this may not turn out well but he had to admit, the sooner Elspeth was gone the better...for everyone.

Ambrose was tempted just to return to bed; close the blinds, bury himself in the covers, and just pretend that he kept a, somewhat, human sleep schedule but that would mean a nasty visit from his nut-job of a sibling...by 'nasty' he meant she would break the taboo set down by their sire and force him to 'donate' blood for her breakfast. And that would blow the human's plans to shit considering she would then know about them, so with a groan he forced his body to sit up and pored himself a glass of semi-warm blood and swung his feet to the floor. His morning routine normal consisted of a shower, shave, and spending an hour in front of the mirror making sure he looked absolutely perfect...today he showered and just threw on his suit without so much as a glance in the full sized mirror. He just couldn't find the energy to care.

The Scot wearily dug out the bag he'd hidden beneath his bed filled with infinitesimally small cameras, mics, and hacking material Hardison had supplied him with. Ambrose sighed again as he went over the instructions he'd been given.

_"Look," Hardison had started, as he swiveled in his chair, "all you have to do is place the cameras in areas of the house your sister frequents, that'll be easy enough I'm sure. Now the pin drive," Hardison reached into the bag and lifted the tiny thing, making sure Ambrose knew exactly what it was, "with this all you need to do is plug it into her computer and double click the dot-E-X-E file on there. That'll start an immediate copy of her entire hard drive and place a virus in her system so we can keep updated on any changes she makes and shut it down automatically. Once that finishes then all you have to do is get the pin drive back to us."_

_At this point Nate spoke up, "And if there's a separate computer controlling the security systems of the house we'll need you to do the same thing with that one."_

_This isnae gon'a end well_, he thought again as he carefully placed the cameras and mics; Elspeth's laptop - which she never let out of her sight - was going to be a challenge but the security room he had no problem with given that the ex-Mossad officers the two hired were very loyal to him and not the vampiress. Sometimes it was worth paying top dollar for the _really_ good whiskey. After he had finished with the basics of the plan he sat in the large armchair in the living room and watched Elspeth work. He'd figured out that it took approximately forty seconds for the copy to be made and the virus to download, so really, all he had to do was wait for her to take a bathroom break and pray she didn't take her laptop with her.

Six hours later and the woman finally received a phone call that she couldn't have in front of him - sometimes her paranoia was useful - and left the room, not only leaving her laptop but not locking it either. The program estimated the totally download time at five minutes and he silently and not-so-silently prayed to any deity that would listen that Elspeth didn't return before then.

Someone apparently took pity on him as it only took exactly three minutes and ten seconds for the program to finish and he was back in his armchair opening his book when Elspeth returned, an unhappy slant to her eyebrows and a glimmer of anger in her eye. "So who, dear brother, was that brunette you were so taken with last night?" she snarled, Ambrose paled.

"Simply a woman who was not enchanted by my beauty and charm, sister. You know how much I love the thrill of the chase," he replied smoothly, barely keeping the tremor from his voice.

She drew herself to her full height and glared down at him for a few beats before turning on her heel and snatching up her laptop, sauntering from the room in a huff. Ambrose made absolutely sure she was gone before letting out the breath he'd been holding in fear; sometimes that woman knew way too much. Now what to do with the rest of the day? He was scheduled to meet with 'Team Suicide' as he was calling them in his mind at the club that night and had no way to get in contact before then. _Ah should jus' kill maself now an' save maself the trouble...an' pain._

He eventually decided to spend his free hours sequestered in the library, looking through old war manuals and books detailing war strategies, if nothing else he could at least help them figure out what might be the best way to get in there.

The very lack of nothing going wrong throughout the day had Ambrose on edge as he approached the club. Elspeth had left him to his own devices in the library and the servants, as per usual, avoided the vampire like the plague. No one tried to chat or flirt as he made his way to the table where Sophie Devereaux was waiting.

When he slid into the chair across from the brunette he saw her frown slightly at his harried expression, "Is everything alright?" She reached out and touched his cheek gently.

"Physically? Fine. But I think Elspeth is starting to scent something foul in the air so this plan of your friends' is going to have to start soon." Sophie shushed him gently and signaled over a waiter, not Yassen, even though he was working that night, and asked for a Martini, a Bloody Mary, and an order of oysters for them to share before turning back to Ambrose.

"It'll work...I think; we've succeeded in some bloody ridiculous plans before - this shouldn't be any-!" The Brit cut herself off when several larger men in black suits approached.

"Damn! Elspeth's pets!" the vampire cursed as he quickly passed the pin drive to Sophie before turning to face the men. "Get out of here, now!"

The grifter didn't hesitate as she quickly made for the back exit as Ambrose tried to buy her time but it wasn't enough. Two of the pets had split from the group and grabbed the brunette; she struggled but was immediately overpowered, the drive dropping as she fl ailed in their punishing grip.

Yassen watched all this and was tempted to help until he saw more of the black clad men appear and finish binding the two prisoners. He could hear Nate screaming in his ear to help them but instead of listening to Mastermind he pulled the earpiece out and stuck it into one of the apron's pockets. The team that had grabbed Sophie and Ambrose had been professionals, carrying out their task without causing even a whisper of suspicion amongst the restaurant-goers. Once the goons and their captives had left the assassin slipped over to where he had seen the drive drop and made a small show of tripping one of the other waiters - the one carrying Sophie's order, in fact - and when he bent to help he, pocketed the flash-drive without incident.

Back in the hotel room, Ford was uncharacteristically showing his temper. "That idiot! That fucking idiot disobeyed! The two were never supposed to be captured!" the killer yelled, a nearly-inhuman growl escaping between words. Eliot frowned at the monitor, he couldn't figure out what the hell Yassen was thinking... but the assassin had never failed in a mission, so he must have seen something they hadn't. The hitter glanced at Nate, who was slowly tearing one of said assassin's books to tiny pieces, and then at Hardison who was busily tapping at his keyboard, "What're you doing?"

Alec didn't even glance up, "I upgraded our earpieces to double as tracking devices; right now I'm watching where they're taking Sophie."

"Did Gregorovich know this before he started his shift?" the Southerner asked.

"Yeah, he's the one who suggested it." The geek paused, turning to face Eliot, looking distraught, "You don't think he expected this might happened, do you?"

"He might've, he's more used to doing this kinda thing, the spy thing, than any of us." Eliot glanced back at Nate who was still working at the book in frustration, "I think Nate knows that too. That's why he's so angry." Hardison nodded in understanding before turning back to the screen to watch the dot representing the grifter move farther and farther away from the club... and the one indicating Yassen was moving towards the hotel.

The door hadn't even fully opened when the mastermind started in on the Russian, "You weren't supposed to let them be captured, Gregorovich! Why the hell didn't you try to stop them from driving off with Sophie and our target?"

Yassen didn't even flinch as Nate shouted in his face he simply waited the man out. When he'd finished his tirade the assassin slid the pin drive out of his pocket and held it up to show the mastermind, "She'll be fine, Ambrose will not be. His sister will focus on him first and if we move quickly we can get to Miss Devereaux before any real damage is done.

"I've already contacted K-Unit and they are tailing the SUV as we speak. Perhaps it would be wisest to follow the tracker now instead of throwing blame about," the blonde continued before tossing the drive to the hacker and walking back out the door towards the van; the rest of the team quickly followed, Nathan cursed under his breath but made sure to place the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the knob, rushing after the others.

They drove for an hour before the van carrying the two prisoners finally pulled into the garage at Elspeth's mansion, the tracking signal disappearing as the van passed beneath what must have been lead shielding or a superb jammer. The two teams met up a mile away from the grounds and put the final touches on their plan as Hardison prepared to shut off the power to the mansion. As soon as K-Unit arrived with the gear and weapons Yassen disappeared for a few moments and, when he returned, the leather outfit he'd been wearing was gone, replaced by simple black combat fatigues.

Nate, now visibly calmer than before, gathered the team around him, "New plan everyone: Parker, get in, find where the two are being held - both place if they're being kept separate. Once we have confirmation, Hardison will cut the power; Eliot and Gregorovich, you two will head in through Route A to rescue Sophie and Ambrose. K-Unit, you will be entering through Route B and will convene at the holding cell/cells."

There was muttered agreement from all of them so Nate continued, "Alright, once Sophie and Ambrose are out Gregorovich and Eliot will re-enter through here," He pointed at one of the second floor windows, "And will start clearing the floors while K-unit does the same in the basement and first floor. Since we don't know where Elspeth will be we should all be prepared to encounter and kill her at all times."

"Any questions?"

"Yeah, with the exception of him," Wolf indicated Yassen, "and him" this time he pointed to Snake, "we're all vanilla mortals. How the hell are we supposed to kill an ancient vampire with a god-complex with guns and knives?"

This time it was Yassen who spoke, "The bullets for the guns are all made from the silver of a melted cross, blessed by a priest, with holy water and garlic embedded in the tips. All you have to do is hit her heart or destroy her head. Any other questions?"

Once Parker was on her way into the mansion and K-Unit and Eliot were out of the van, the mastermind stopped Yassen. "Those weapons won't do any real damage, will they, Gregorovich?"

"Not the bullets themselves, no, but as Iraya has assured me; what does kill vampires is 'faith magic'. The absolute belief in the weapon or item or words one uses is what actually causes damage. As long as they believe garlic, holy water, and silver will do damage, they will." The assassin shrugged, "If they doubt they'll win or that they'll do damage, then they die. In this case, arrogance and confidence are what will keep them alive."

Nate stared at the assassin for a moment, as if waiting for him to give the punch-line of a joke, before shaking his head slightly, "You're completely insane, do you realize this?"

Yassen paused on his way out the back of the van, "I am the descendant of a dragon and loup-garou, my lover is a sorcerer, and I've had a vampire and fully fledged werewolf in my home for the past several months," he turned to look at Ford fully, "I've learned to broaden my horizons."

The serial killer rolled his eyes to the heavens as if to ask for patience, "Get out of here." The assassin sent a smirk at Nate before getting into position besides the hitter, settling in to wait for Parker's intel.


	31. Chapter 30

**Author's Note**:

Well, here it is, dearies: the FINAL CHAPTER. I'm serious. This is the last chapter of _Down the Rabbit Hole_ and it will be a few weeks yet before we start the next story, _Till You Come to the End: Then Stop_. We're so glad you all stuck it out with us through the ups, the downs, the long waits, the quirky breaks, and of course, College Crunch Time™. This story is, officially, 141 pages (our record) and 78,902 words (not counting ANs). By the time we typed the last word we'd suffered innumerable arguments, plot falls (be thankful you missed those), character development disagreements, and using the phrase "Eh, it'll work" some 100+ times (we stopped counting around sixty-three and it has become our motto, unfortunately). So, here's the big thanks, the big finale that isn't as climatic as we thought it would be, and the big hint at who will be entering our massive cast of players. It's been fun, and, since none of you guessed (and that made me so sad), the reference back during the siege on the fortress chapters was Jackie Chan Adventures (how could none of you even try to guess?). See if any of you can figure out what we're going to crossover with next.

*munches Twizzler idly* I do believe this is the first story we've actually finished, my dear Shiin.

Really? Didn't we finish that one for our teacher back when we were lowly, high school freshies?

I have never counted that story as finished since we did it in a rush and left out so much that we wanted to add.

True, and we never finished the re-write...or those other stories we started in media schola. Perhaps it was our fans this time? Our reviewers from the previous stories were a mix of "I hate your guts" and "I worship you" - not kidding about the lingo either; there really is an "I worship you" review. *sips chocolate milk absently* Huh, we got good reviewers this time, didn't we?

That we did, that we did... maybe we should do something special for them in thanks.

Oh? *changes position on chaise lounge* What do you suggest, Sho?

You remember all those silly little scenes when talked about putting in but never did?

Oh yeah; the ones that didn't quite fit in the grand scheme of the plot but would have been fun to write. What about them?

What if we actually broke them out of cold storage and posted them for our reviewers? I know at least one person has asked to see that incident between Yassen and John Rider in the Amazon.

Are you suggesting we write a drabble series as a sort of spin-off, love?

Yes, yes I am.

Uh-huh...are you sure we'll have time for it while writing the sequel? By the way, we are totally not posting it until we have AT LEAST five chapters prepared; posting by the seat of our pants is no way to write.

Shiin, sweetie, you're on summer vacation, I'm only taking two classes, we have all the free time in the world, we're just lazy. Besides, it'll be good exercise for when we hit those rough patches and have no idea where we're trying to go. A sort of in-universe vacation.

Have you forgotten the part where I have to teach myself biology, see the damn shrink so s/he can shrink my head (again), deal with my psycho family (and isn't that just a soap opera waiting to be written), and retake an honors college test so my adviser - who is also the professor for the course - doesn't nail my ass to his office door (which he is sooooooo threatening to do)? Seriously, no by-the-seat-of-our-pants writing; we have to have a back-log or we'll both get cranky and scare off our muses.

So we'll have a back-log on hand, I get it, but I'm saying if we have some free time and are bored and don't want to write for the actual fic we can write something else. It's always helped inspire us before.

True, it's why we have those two side-stories in the wings waiting to be posted at a more...appropriate time.

Exactly!

Well, onto the next great adventure...or something smooshy like that, eh?

Eh, it'll do I suppose. By the way, are you still sitting on the floor of your bathroom?

Thanks, Sho; you just ruined my writer's mystique. I was trying to make the readers think I was a posh writer in some Victorian style drawing room wearing only a laptop and some indecent lingerie. *gives exasperated stare*

Sorry, but I doubt that's what they pictured of you anyway. They probably pictured someone sitting in a badly lighted room hunched over an old laptop held together with nothing but scotch tape...actually that's not too far off from the truth, huh? Besides, no one actually reads these things anyway.

Considering the number of comments derived from our scintillating ANs...that last statement is fairly ignorant. Anyway, my laptop is not held together with scotch tape, the lights are almost too bright, and after TheHenna spent four weeks correcting my posture I don't slump. Also, TheHenna is going to be my roomie next year. [insert music, _Celebration_]

Isn't TheHenna a boy?

Yes, but he's gay and has plainly asked me to find him a boyfriend. He's so wonderfully cuddly and is such an awesome body pillow...TheHenna also knows how to give a proper massage AND pop my back - do you have any idea how exceedingly RARE that is?

Yes, yes, have fun. Don't forget the earplugs though, I'm learning that the hard way.

I didn't leave the house without my earplugs; I can't believe you were foolish enough to leave those behind.

I packed in a rush. I also forgot my step stool and executive chair along with the refills for my printer... but I remembered my Yaoi Paddle! So that's one point in my favor.

*gives deadpan look then turns to readers* Why do I even bother anymore? *shakes head* Sho, I'm going to head to bed; I advise you do the same.

Nah, I was thinking I'd actually go make some dinner. Haven't eaten since noon.

It's two in the morning, Sho; I think you mean breakfast. Anyway, Shiinmaru-dono out.

No, I mean dinner. Sho-dono out as well.

**Chapter 30**

It took Parker maybe an hour to find the cell Sophie was being kept in, the vent's opening, however, was welded shut and she could see armed guards standing just outside the cell door so she didn't dare try to let the older woman know she was there other than to let one of the many fortune cookies she kept on her to drop to the floor. The falling cookie startled Sophie when it hit but when she saw what it was the look of relief on her face as she looked at the vent was all the assurance Parker needed, she then set off to look for wherever Ambrose was being kept.

It took another hour to locate Ambrose deep within in the labyrinth that made up the basement. When she found him she actually had to turn away to keep from vomiting. Where Sophie had been beaten - not terribly but enough to be visibly painful - Ambrose had been utterly tortured: She'd was able to see bone peeking through on all four limbs and the left clavicle, deep cuts littered every inch of his body not darkened black by bruises. The thief was slightly shocked to not see bite marks or entrails.

As Parker watched, Elspeth entered the cell while wiping her hands clean on a piece of cloth. When the vampiress spoke it was as if she was talking to a particularly dumb child, "Did you actually think I wouldn't have you followed? After the way you've been acting these last couple of days? My dear, dear brother... how much of a fool did you take me for?"

Ambrose gazed blankly at his sister, "I'm tired, El; I'm tired of your madness, of endless days and nights without meaning, and of never having a moment of peace. Mostly though, I'm tired of you."

Elspeth's face twisted into a snarl of rage as she grabbed her brother's hair and yanked his head back, baring his throat. The thief had to look away as the mad woman drove her teeth into Ambrose's neck, drinking greedily.

When she violently ripped her fangs from his neck she threw him into the wall. "How dare you betray me!" she screeched, Parker had to cover her ears or risk her hearing. "I've done everything for you and you side with Iraya! We could have ruled the world together and you're willing to give all that up for a woman you just met?" She marshaled her temper and walked out of the cell only speaking again after locking the door, "The Council will do worse to you than I when they hear of this."

Parker frowned at that and made the executive decision to get the hell out of there. It didn't take her nearly as long to get out of the fortress as it did to get in and within forty-five minutes she was settling down beside the assault team to tell them what she had discovered. When she mentioned the Council Nate frowned deeply. "You're sure that's what she said?"

"Yes, positive."

Yassen looked back at Nate and raised an eyebrow, "It is possible this conspiracy is larger than we originally thought."

"Dudes, we're having problems with ONE vampire chick gone psycho - how the hell are we going to go up against something potentially global?" Hardison complained over the comm.

"Acquire more allies." Yassen stated simply even as he adjusted the gun in his arms. "I'm sure there are some who would be willing to help us."

Nate snorted, "If you're thinking of who I think you're thinking of your head must be screwed on wrong. No way he'd get involved in something like this."

The assassin shrugged easily before nodding his head at Eliot and signally the rest of the K-unit to start the attack. Once they had left Parker turned to Ford with a frown, "Who was he thinking of?"

"No one you need to worry about; go stay with Hardison," he directed. Parker gave her signature I'm-onto-you glare before skipping to the van to pester the geek.

Nate watched her go before speaking into the comm again, "Gregorovich. You really think that bastard would help? Supposedly he only concerns himself with matters in his own city."

Yassen rolled his eyes even as he and Eliot waited in a large bush outside the fortress for Hardison to cut the power. "If we give him the proper incentive. Iraya and I spoke of him as a possibility after I called you and she swears she'd be able to secure his loyalty."

"It still sounds risking getting the Gentleman involved."

"Says the serial killer with a temper and propensity for torture. Besides, if this does extend beyond an attempt to usurp Ira and there is some Council manipulating things in the background then we'll require his resources and...expertise with the supernatural. It's either that or we beg Peng's Norse god friend." Nate was about to respond when he saw the lights in the mansion go out and knew that Gregorovich and Eliot would need all their concentration to complete their assignment successfully.

The hitter lead the infiltration with Yassen following as K-unit moved to perform a right flanking maneuver; guards started appearing in the doorways and windows. The soft noises of tranquilizer guns sounded quietly and the enemy began to drop like flies. Getting in was easy to the pair, both of whom had practically been raised on breaking into houses, and finding their way down to the prisoners cells even more-so; it looked as if the men that normally guarded prisoners had all headed top-side as soon as the power had gone out. But, like in any other situation they group had been involved in, Murphy's Law took that moment to assert itself.

In the Romanian fortress, several hundred miles away, Alex Rider was losing his breakfast for the tenth day in a row. Kia frowned at the teens back as she fiddled idly with the small rectangular box in her hands, debating whether or not to hand it to the teen or wait another day to be sure. Another groan and the sounds of more heaving decided for the loup-garou; she knocked on the open door out of courtesy.

"Alex," she spoke softly, startling a mage - even one still in training - was always a bad idea.

"What?" he moaned miserably.

"Are you sure you're not pregnant? Because ten days of vomiting, sensitivity to smells that trigger more vomiting, and no fever is rather indicative."

"We always used a condom; there's no way..." he trailed off. "There was one time when the condom broke but..."

She thrust an over-the-counter pregnancy test at the blonde, "Here, a plus sign means pregnant." Alex took the box and stared at it for a moment before frowning back up at Kia.

Back at the siege Eliot was cursing enough to make even the most patient of nuns faint; he and Yassen had found Sophie without any problems, but it appeared as if Ambrose had been moved elsewhere during the time it had taken Parker to get back to them. They were turning the corner to try another cell when the sound of a large gun being cocked caught their attention from behind. Looking back they spied a large Middle-Eastern man with a double-barrel, twelve-gauge, sawed-off shotgun in his hands. "You are here to rescue Lord Ambrose?" he queried.

"Yes; care to make things easier and point us in the right direction?" Yassen asked, half-serious and half-sarcastic. The ex-Mossad agent quirked his lips slightly in amusement before nodding stoically and indicating they follow him.

The man led them to a part of the basement that wasn't on the blueprint that neither Hardison had found nor on the one Ambrose had stolen from them. It was much simpler than the rest of the subterranean hallways; plain, poured cement walls, bare light bulbs, faux-wooden doors with cheap brass doorknobs, it looked like the hospital ward of a prison.

"The **hell** is this?" Eliot asked, head swiveling and brow furrowed.

The bodyguard's lips thinned in a grimace, "This is Lady Elspeth's personal torture chamber...it's for those she decides to keep for longer than a few days. There are ten cells here and one main chamber." He paused and turned his head slightly, "What do you know of vampire custom?"

"Not much, why?" the hitter replied.

"Then it isn't important...but you should ask High Lady Iraya the significance of drinking the blood of a fellow vampire and the significance of doing so without consent." Yassen frowned deeply, he could guess at what that meant but decided to keep his thoughts to himself. As they continued deeper into the hall the dull, rasp of pained breathing drew their attention to the final door at the end.

The end cell held Ambrose...what was left of him anyway. Even Yassen, who'd seen the worst of the worst in his time with SCORPIA and in the depths of Alex's mind, had to look away or risk losing his lunch. The vampire was little more than a sack of meat, both legs missing, right arm clearly broken in multiple places, and if even one rib was left unbroken the Russian would be shocked. No skin was left uncut or un-bruised but what was probably the most horrific were the Scot's eyes...or the lack there of.

"Who's...there?" he gasped, blood dribbling down his chin.

Eliot couldn't stay in the room after that and turned smartly on his heel to walk out, the assassin could hear the sound of him retching a few moments later. "It's us, we're here to get you out and kill your sister."

"Ah...is Sophie...alright?"

"She's fine, a little bruised, but fine."

"This is...bigger than just Elspeth...th-there's this Council..." he coughed and the dark, near-black blood of imminent death spurted and oozed from his lips. "They're going to...take over th-the w-world."

The Russian nodded slightly, "We know, Parker saw what Elspeth did to you." He stepped forward and pressed his palm to the dying vampire's cheek in an attempt to offer some comfort, "You have my word that they will be stopped at any cost. Rest now, you don't need to suffer any longer."

"Thank...you," he whispered and smiled, the first since he'd left Iraya's home, before passing. Turning to leave the cell, the assassin glanced at the ex-Mossad agent and saw only deep grief mixed even deeper anger.

"She will suffer for this; I promise Elspeth will pay for her crimes."

The Middle-Eastern man nodded sharply, "I will help."

Yassen moved out into the hallway to find Eliot leaning against the wall looking pale, but he opened his eyes when the Russian approached and straightened, he'd take his earbud out already, "I say we fuck the plan and kill her now." The assassin nodded and turned to the agent closing the door to the chamber quietly.

"Where is she?"

"Follow me; all the guards not loyal to Lord Ambrose have already been knocked out...or killed by my men. **She** is in the study." It took less time to return to the upper floors and find the study than it did to reach the basement in the first place; the trio had no trouble with the absence of the guards.

The guide pointed out the door to the study and moved forward as if to enter first but Yassen grabbed his arm, stopping him, "You've done enough, get your men and leave this place. Let us take care of **her**."

The ex-Mossad agent nodded and turned to leave before hesitating, "I am Areli David; should you have need of the services of me and my men simply call for us."

The assassin nodded before turning back to the door. It was heavily ornate with meaningless curlicues covering the majority of the dark mahogany wood; the pair moved forward silently.

Pregnancy test instructions were always simple: remove from box, remove top from pee tab, pee on tab, wait thirty to ninety seconds (ninety in this case); if plus sign appears, congrats (or not, depending on scenario). Simple. And utterly nerve-wracking when waiting. Every second an eternity for the Sorcerer as counted down until the little, cheap…thing gave an answer. Pregnant? Not Pregnant?

"I've been expecting you," Elspeth's lyrical voice called out as they entered. Her back was to them as she looked out the massive bay window. "Ambrose may not have known all of your plans but he knew that you would come...so I knew you would come." Neither man answered as they drew closer. She turned and spoke again, "I had half-expected Iraya to come to spank me, but I guess she couldn't be bothered. No matter; your presence changes nothing: You will, then Iraya and Peng, and then I'll rule the world."

Yassen snorted, "You really think the Council will actually let you, a simple vampire, and not even a terribly powerful one at that, rule this world? Are you really that daft?" He was playing with fire and he knew it, but that best way to defeat an enemy that knows you're there and who is stronger than you is to get them mad enough to make a mistake.

"I'll be a Sage - doubly so since Peng has no heir. Do you have any idea - even the faintest of one - how much power that is? It's not just knowledge a Sage gains; it's power. Iraya and Peng are two of the most powerful beings on the planet because they're Sages! And when I have the power of two Sages...I'll be the strongest being in the world." Her beautiful face was split by a crazed grin and a manic gleam in her eyes; a deranged laugh spilled from her crimson lips. "No one will be able to stop me!" she cried, lunging at the pair.

Eliot leaped to the right as Yassen rolled under the vampiress; when the Russian regained his feet he smirked, "I beg to differ, vamp, but Peng does have an heir. Two actually. You thought wrong." Elspeth attacked again and the assassin dodged once more but this time, fired three shots into the monster's back as Eliot did the same to her head.

Elspeth choked and rolled herself onto her back; when she tried to rise, the dragon/loup-garou mix pressed his boot to her chest. "Even if you kill me, you can't stop the Council; they will win and you humans will be our slaves. It is Hitsuzen - Fate - and you can't escape what was preordained long before man crawled out of the mud. You will see-!" The hitter fired another shot into her and her body turned to dust.

"I was gettin' tired of her monologin'," was his justification when Yassen gave a questioning eyebrow raise.

His gold eyes stared in abject terror at the little pink plus sign. Kia looked at her cousin's mate worriedly. "Alex?"

"Oh shit," he practically whimpered.


	32. Author's Note  Series Update

Dear Readers,

This is Sho-dono and I know that myself and Shiinmaru-dono have been nearly silent as of late but I am here to inform you that THE SEQUEL IS UP AND RUNNING! Well… limping. We also wish to apologize for the prolonged silence as I stated before and have done so in many of our chapters previously; we have busy lives, they get in the way sometimes. Currently Shiin is taking six college classes two of which are labs and I myself have embarked on an advance study for my Major for which my lectures are each three hours long not including homework. So things are going to be a little slow for a while but we promise we will try to keep updating, albeit slowly, regularly.

Again, we would like to thank all our faithful readers for sticking with us and please read and review our sequel for Down The Rabbit Hole which is called Till You Come To The End. Sho-dono out!

*fox-woman in an unbuttoned flak-jacket, camo-colored undies, and camo-painted thighs pops out* Actually, it's only five courses though two of them are still labs. It also doesn't help that my roomies are awesome and don't allow me to hole up in my room for days on end…not that that is conducive to eating or sleeping but whatever. Anyway, I now have to get back to my homework before something else distracts…me…oooooooooh, butterfly…EEK! ZOMBIES! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!


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